Turning Tables: Season Three
by Princess Pinky
Summary: With Adrian, Ben, and Mercy's future as a family up in the air as Adrian approaches graduation and Grace having fled town, how would season three have been different?
1. Don't Over

**A/N: **A big thanks to everyone who has stuck with me and made the third "season" of this story possible!

_**Turning Tables**_

**Don't Over**

"Oh, no! No, no, no!"

Ben Boykewich came running into his bedroom to find his girlfriend, Adrian Lee, at his window, thumping it with her fists. "What's the matter?" he asked urgently, pressing his hands to his girlfriend's shoulders.

"Look!" she exclaimed, distraught. "It's raining!"

"So?"

"So? Mercy's first birthday is tomorrow!"

"It's just rain, Adrian."

"Yeah, but it's going to make the backyard all squishy and the guests are going to have their feet sinking into the mud."

"Only if it rains too much."

"And if it does?"

"And if it does we'll just move the party inside. I live in a mansion, Adrian, there's enough room, trust me." Ben used the back of his hand to push a swathe of dark hair over Adrian's shoulder and he softly traced her collar bone with the tips of his fingers. "But that's not what's really bothering you, is it?"

Adrian turned away from the window as thunder rumbled outside and she rested her forehead into the crook of Ben's shoulder. "Everything's getting to me," she confessed. "I hate that I've been so stressed lately."

"Me too." Ben ran his fingers through her black waves.

"Where do you think Grace is?" Adrian whispered, her voice brittle.

"I don't know."

"_God!"_ Adrian seethed, clumping up the fabric of his shirt between her fists. "How could this happen? She's been missing for almost two months!"

"I know." Ben wound his fingers around Adrian's fists, massaging her taut knuckles.

"But you don't!" she insisted, jerking away from him. "You don't know where she is! You don't know how I feel! Nobody does!" Adrian pounded her hands onto Ben's desk and let a long, fatigued cry escape her throat. "How could she just up and disappear? Grace would never do this! I don't know how the little bastard drained her bank account, but I know he has to be responsible for her disappearance! Grace would _never. Just. Leave._"

Ben tangled his arms around his girlfriend and held tight to her as she thrashed in his arms. Soon, the thrashing gave way to crying – again – and he just held her, as he had been doing for nearly two months now. It seemed impossible to enjoy their lives anymore. Even the rare moments involving Mercy's first this or Mercy's first that were marred by the absence of their friend, Adrian's _best_ friend, and Ben was absolutely powerless to do anything about it.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky Underwood slung his backpack onto his shoulders with an audible _plop_ and turned to see one of his best friends, Heather, coming towards him. "Hey," he smiled. "What's new?"

"I just met with the counselor," she sighed and held up a handful of papers. "I'm going to have so much fun at summer school!" she sang sarcastically.

Ricky scratched the back of his head. "Sorry to hear that."

"Any chance you're going to be there to keep my company?"

"I think I'm going to pass my classes this semester. Maybe even slightly better than last semester, thanks to Adrian. That, in and of itself, is a blessing. I still can't believe she agreed to continue tutoring me after everything that's happened."

Heather shifted her eyes up and down. "Yeah, I know whatcha mean." A moment later she feigned a pout, attempting to lighten the sudden dark mood. "I'm gonna be so bored, Underwood. Are you sure you couldn't fail just one class for me?"

Ricky smiled, just barely, in spite of the situation. "As much as I'd like to help you out, I fear my mother's wrath more. Sorry."

"So much for friendship," Heather huffed jokingly. "And so much for spending the summer working off all this baby fat." Heather rolled her eyes. "Speaking of babies: are you going to the party this afternoon?"

"Of course," Ricky nodded. "How could I not? Adrian needs all the support she can get right now, even if it is just showing up for her daughter's birthday party."

"_First_ birthday party," Heather corrected. There was a flicker in her eyes, just for a fraction of a second, and then it was gone again.

Ricky felt his heart constrict. He knew she tried to hide those lapses, and most of the time she was pretty good at it, but he knew her far too well not to catch those near imperceptible moments of weakness. Especially around this time of the month: only four days ago had been the three month anniversary of her daughter's birth and he suspected that it would still be several more months, maybe even years, before the sixth of the month wasn't so painful for her anymore. "Are you?"

"Adrian's helped me so much this year, I have to go. I couldn't really afford a gift though."

"You can add your name to mine if you want."

"Nah, that's okay. But thanks for the offer."

Ricky nodded and they walked in silence for a few moments before he asked: "Hey, you don't want to come over for dinner tomorrow night, do you?"

"Ricky," she sighed, her voice caught somewhere between amusement and defeat. "You know that it's not you and your family's responsibility to feed me, right?"

"We don't think of you like that. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you've been inviting me over for dinner at least once a week since Grace –" She stopped abruptly as they passed a couple of cheerleaders who looked at them and fell silent about their gossip. She looked down until they were out of earshot. "What I'm trying to say is: it was really sweet of Grace to bring me all those frozen dinners and stuf every month, but I was getting by before she did that and I can get by now. You don't have to imposition yourselves to feed me."

"We like having you over," Ricky argued. "My parents love talking with you at dinner and my dad adores the fact that you like his family recipes, so it gives him an excuse to eat fix his mother's favorite dishes whenever you come over. It's not an imposition, I swear. If anything, you help me out by keeping them in a good mood."

Heather played with the edge of the oversized t-shirt she was wearing. "Well, I suppose," she said, rolling her eyes for dramatic effect. "But only to help my friend out, not because I want to fooch off of you."

"Fooch?"

"Food mooch?" Heather countered as though it were obvious.

"Oh god," Ricky groaned. "Please tell me our culture hasn't further transgressed into Brangelina-izing _food_ now."

"I hate to break it to ya, Underwood, but that's our culture."

"Kill me now."

"No way!" she grinned. "You are not leaving me alone on this planet!"

"You'd still have Ash."

"Speaking of: is she going to the party?"

"I think so. Her and Adrian are kind of friends-_ish_."

"So are we all going together then or what?"

"I'll have to get back to you on that. I think Ms. Juergens might be taking her, but I'm not sure. I'll try to catch up with her at lunch and find out."

"Sounds good." Heather stepped into her classroom. "See ya!"

Ricky gave her a parting nod and quickened his pace towards his first class.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Is Madison really going to sing at the party?" Henry Miller whispered from his seat beside his best friend. Several people were rushing in around them to get their seats before the bell rang.

"Yep."

Henry cringed. "I don't know, man," he said, looking warily across the room to where Madison Cooperstein was sitting behind Amy Juergens and Lauren Treacy. "That's one hell of a gamble. Is she like, uh, paying your dad to let her sing or something?"

Ben shook his head. "From what Bunny says, she's actually pretty good."

"When did Bunny hear her sing?"

"One of Bunny's friends from the church choir teaches music lessons down at the old theatre. I guess Madison takes music lessons there because Bunny heard her singing when she went up to meet with her friend for coffee last weekend."

"I didn't know that."

"Neither did I."

"So your dad just offered her a gig at the party on the fly?"

"No, he dropped in on one of her lessons, apparently liked what he heard, and asked her in person."

The bell rang as Mrs. Doonan charged in. "Quiet!" she screeched, even more irritable than usual. She dropped a heavy binder onto her desk that landed with a sound like a fist sized rock against the sidewalk, unzipped it, and pulled out a stack of papers. "Pop quiz!"

"Crap!" Henry cursed under his breath. "I didn't do the reading last night!"

Ben paled. "You're not the only one."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Christian imagery filled the lemon crème colored walls of a small room: there was a large cross on the back wall, a quilt depicting the Virgin Mary on the left wall, and a painting with a soaring dove holding an olive branch in its beak on the right wall. A circle of chairs had been set up in the middle of the room and nearly every chair was filled with a woman. Their appearances varied greatly in ethnicity and age.

"…what I can never wrap my head around is the excuse that a man can't control himself," a middle aged Filipina woman spoke. "And yet at the same time, our society is run primarily by men. How can it be justified that men are better equipped to run out world and yet they also get excused for being able to control themselves no better than wild animals?"

A quiet _pit-pat_ of rubber soles against the waxed floor caused a few women to look up. One, of Hispanic descent, raised her hand and smiled pleasantly. "Grace, I'm glad you could make it. How are you feeling today?"

Grace Bowman approached one of the two empty seats and sat down. She smoothed the edge of the black baby doll top she wore over her black leggings. "Better than yesterday," she replied. "I'm just taking things day by day, like everyone here suggests." She moved her hand to head and raked her fingers through her blonde hair. It was no longer long and flowing down her back. Now, it was chopped off to her shoulders and bouncy at the end with thick curls. She motioned her hand towards the Filipina who had been talking. "Sorry, Delilah, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, it's okay," Delilah replied. "I was just saying how I don't understand society's double standards, that's all."

"What I don't understand is how we 'ask for it,'" another woman, Caucasian with an umber colored pageboy haircut, spoke up. "It doesn't matter what we wear, we're always 'asking for it.' Really: what the hell? If we're proud of our bodies and we wear clothes that show them off, then we're sluts and 'asking' to be raped. But if we cover up our bodies because society tells us we don't look like all those models in magazines and billboards, then we're prudes or we're playing coy and we're still 'asking for it.'"

"'_Accentuating my shape is not an invite to rape.'"_

"_I…never thought of it that way before."_

Grace jolted when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It came from the woman in the chair to Grace's left. She was an African-American woman, maybe in her late forties, and she reminded Grace somewhat of Ricky's foster mother.

"Are you sure you're all right?" the woman whispered.

Grace nodded. "Yeah," she said distantly. "What Delilah was saying just reminded me of something."

"Of what?" Delilah asked curiously.

Grace touched her cheek. "Of a friend of mine, back home. We went to high school together. She inspired me to gather up a bunch of girls from our school and host a Slut Walk through the halls. 'Accentuating my shape is not an invite to rape,'" she smiled sadly.

"Accentuating my shape is not an invite to rape," Delilah repeated. "I like that."

"Me too," another group member said. She was young, maybe even a year or two younger than Grace, and had tar black hair with blood colored streaks.

"Your friend sounds pretty wise," the woman to Grace's left remarked.

"She was. Probably one of the smartest people I've ever met. She opened my eyes to so many things." The blonde touched her eye, feeling moisture growing around her lashes. "I just wish I'd listened to her sooner."

"Was she the one who you got into a fight with over spending too much time with _him_?"

Grace nodded. "Yeah, Adrian. She was my best friend."

The African-American woman beside Grace squeezed her shoulder. "Have you spoken to her since you've been coming to group?"

"No. And I know she probably hates me for that. They probably all do. I just feel so weak; like such a _coward_. After what he did to me, I just up and ran away. If it had been Adrian, she wouldn't have done that. In fact, when she was kidnapped, the only reason they found her was because she stood up to Bob. And when her boss was trying to force her to give him sexual favors at work, she came up with a plan to catch him on video and she got both of their asses thrown in jail for a good _long_ time. But me? I just hid and then _ran_."

"You didn't do anything wrong, sweetie."

Grace smiled weakly at the older woman. "Thanks, Vera" she said unconvincingly.

"I'm serious," Vera insisted. "Not every survivor reacts the same way. Sometimes a person just can't come forward. There's no right or wrong way to react, Grace. You have to cope _your _way, not anyone else's."

"But what if he does it again, to someone else? What if he does it again because I didn't report him and it's my fault that someone else feels as terrified and embarrassed and _disgusting_ as I do?"

"That goes back to what I was saying earlier: we aren't responsible for their actions! We can't afford to think like that either. If we do, we're doing exactly what they want us to and that means they're still controlling us."

"But when it happened, I had the power to do something about it. I could've gone to the police! I could've told! Instead I just pulled my sheets over my head and cried myself to sleep for a week."

"I can't say what it's like to experience not telling, but I can say that telling doesn't always end in justice like it should," a woman petite woman with short black hair in her late twenties or early thirties said. "They say that everyone is innocent until proven guilty, but for me, when I told on the senior who raped me, I was guilty until proven innocent. The trial was madness. I relived that night every day, especially when I had to take the stand to tell my side of the story."

"But did he eventually get put away?"

"He eventually struck a deal. He'll be out on parole in five years."

"Five years!" Delilah scoffed. "That's sickening!"

"I got closure by getting mine put away for life, but I'll never be able to feel truly safe again. Except, for _maybe_, here, with this group. If only for the fact that I know you all understand the type of thing I've gone through to some degree. And of course the anonymity."

"Sometimes I wish I had this in my home town," Grace sighed. "But then again, if I had, I probably still would've left because I couldn't stand to face him again. Every time I think of him my skin begins to crawl like swarming maggots and I remember the ungodly pain and I just – _I can't_."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Where's the birthday girl?" Ben crooned. He had his eyes covered with his hands and then he slowly spread his fingers to peek out of them like blinds until he'd throw his hands off and shout: "There's the birthday girl!"

Mercy Lee squealed in delight and threw her arms up in the air and then she'd imitate her father by pressing her little hands to her own eyes.

Ben laughed and covered his eyes again. "Where's the birthday girl?" he called. "Where's daddy's birthday girl?" He peeled back his fingers until he saw Mercy doing the same and then he threw his hands up in the air. "There's my birthday girl!" He scooped Mercy up and spun her around.

The one-year-old squealed and sputtered in delight. _"¡Mamá!"_ she cried out, holding her hands out as Adrian entered the room.

"_¡__Preciosista!" _Adrian purred in return. She reached out to receive her daughter from her boyfriend and lavishly kissed the child's bouncing head and thick nest of obsidian curls.

Ben gave a mock pout. "When's she going to start saying 'dada'?"

Adrian pecked him on the cheek. "Soon enough."

"Not that I'm not happy she has a first word already," he walked around Adrian and bent down to tap Mercy's button nose, "but don't we speak more English to her on a regular basis?"

Adrian smirked. "You obviously don't know how much Spanish my mother speaks to her when she's not around. So does the nanny. That's one of the reasons I wanted to hire her because she's bilingual."

Ben wagged his finger. "I see, so you've all been plotting against me, hm?" He bent down to bring his face level with Mercy's again. "Dada!" he said, pointing to himself, "I'm your dada!"

Mercy reached out and wrapped her fist around Ben's nose, not quite understanding the concept of just_ tapping_ his nose. _"¡Mamá!"_

Ben plied the little girl's fingers off his nose and out of his nostrils and shook his head. _"Dada."_

"_¡Mamá!"_

"It's useless, Ben," Adrian singsonged. "She's like her _mama _and _abuelita_!"

Ben moved to Mercy's closet and pulled out a pale lavender dress, so light it was almost white: the chest and sleeves were made of silk decorated in pearl beading and windowpane stitching and flared out into an organza and tulle skirt with a shiny silken trim. He then picked up a matching crown made of the same faint lavender silk trimmed in faux pearl beading and Barbie pink feather boa fringe. As a final touch, the words _Birthday Princess_ were sewn across the top in pink calligraphy. "When should we get her dressed?"

Adrian glanced at the Dora the Explorer clock and shook her head. "Not for another couple of hours, I don't want her ruining that outfit. Your dad paid good money for it. Too much good money, actually, for something she'll only wear once."

"You never know, she might wear it again."

"With the way she's been sprouting up?" Adrian asked doubtfully.

"Well at least she can still wear the crown for a few more birthdays to come, can't you my little Sausage Princess?" Ben swooped down and kissed Mercy's head before draping the dress over the back of the rocking chair and setting the crown atop it. "Care to go inspect the backyard with me?" he asked, offering his hand.

"Does something need to be set up?" she asked confusedly.

"I just thought you might want a little peace of mind that the backyard wasn't ruined with the rain last night."

Adrian sighed and adjusted Mercy to a more comfortable position on her hip. "That'd be great," she smiled, laying her hand into his.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Heather stood with a wad of tissue paper in her fist, staring into a semi-large birthday bag. She nodded approvingly. "Adrian's gonna like that."

Ricky nodded, though his phone was pressed to his ear. "See you at the party."

"Ash is going with her mom?"

"Begrudgingly," Ricky replied, slipping his phone into his pocket.

"I'm surprised Ms. Juergens is even going…given her ex's relations with Adrian's mom."

"Leo's been a good friend to her and Ben to Amy, so I think she's showing up for them, not Adrian and her mom."

Heather raised her eyebrows. "Awkward!" she spoke in a high pitched tone. She stuffed the tissue paper back into the bag and tried to fluff it out again so that it looked as nice as it did when she'd pulled it out.

Ricky strode up on the other side of the bag and shoed Heather's hands away before fixing the paper himself.

"Perfectionist."

"I don't think I've ever heard someone drop a bigger load of BS in my life!" he countered.

"_Touché. _Also, props on the dirty imagery."

"I try."

"Margaret, Shakur!" Heather suddenly greeted as the couple came into the room. "Are you coming with us?"

Margaret set a large rectangular shaped gift wrapped in paper with a ribbon and balloon pattern onto the couch cushion. "Hello, Heather."

"Nice to see you," Shakur said warmly.

Margaret shook her head. "I have to run some papers over to my office first and then we'll head on over to the party, so you two feel free to leave ahead of us."

Heather picked up Ricky's gift by the pink strings. "Are we ready then?" she asked, looking to her friend.

Ricky grabbed his wallet from the table and made a beeline for the door. "See you when you get there."

"Drive safe!"

Ricky rolled his eyes as he ushered the redhead out the door. _"I know!"_ he drawled in typical teenage fashion. "You too!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Henry downed a drink of sparkling apple cider from a champagne glass with a small pink ribbon tied at the bottom. "You need to throw more parties, Mr. Boykewich."

"And we thought your Halloween parties were incredible," Alice Valko laughed. "They've got nothing on this! Did Ben just not ever invite us to his _real_ birthday parties?"

"This is the first birthday party I've ever thrown of this scale," Leo replied. "Not that I'm trying to toot my own horn. Growing up Ben only ever really hung out with you and Henry, so there was never a need to throw a party and invite everyone. But with Mercy…well, she's my first grandchild and more importantly, there are a lot more people who I have become associated with _because _of Mercy. I figured the only right way to celebrate the first year of her life was to invite everyone involved."

"Leo, how much did you spend for all this?" Cindy Lee asked, staring at the backyard of the Boykewich mansion in awe.

"I've spared no expense for our granddaughter's first birthday," Leo Boykewich responded heartily. "A child's first first only happens once you know."

"He might as well be throwing a wedding," Adrian smirked. "I'm actually kind of afraid to think of what he might do for her Sweet Sixteen or college graduation. They could probably make a reality show out of this outrageous kid party madness."

"What's taking Benjamin so long?"

Cindy nodded. "I was thinking the guests are beginning to look a little restless."

"Oh, he's still primping her. I told him he's overreacting but…" She motioned to Leo. "Like father, like son."

"Mr. Boykewich!"

"Ricky, Heather!" Adrian greeted. "I'm glad you made it! Are your parents here?"

"On their way," Ricky said, exchanging a hug with Adrian. "The party looks amazing," he added, directing the comment at Leo. "If I didn't know any better, I would've thought this was something much more extravagant than a toddler's birthday party." He looked at Adrian and Cindy when they started to laugh. "What did I say?"

Cindy waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Just a little joke we were talking about right before you walked up, it's nothing."

Ricky jiggled his bag. "Where do we put the gifts?"

"Over on those tables," Cindy said, pointing to two long fold up tables draped in pink tablecloths. "Although between you and me, I don't think she needs anymore gifts. Just look at what's over there already: Leo's going to have to dedicate a whole room to her new toys alone! She's going to go up _estropeado_."

"With all do respect, Ms. Lee, you were the one who bought Adrian a brand new convertible for her Sweet Sixteen," Ben said, walking up to the group with Mercy, all decked out in her birthday clothes and crown, in his arms.

"After sixteen years I deserved that car!" Adrian glared, only half playfully.

"Oh!" Cindy cooed. "_¡Bebé!_ Come to your favorite_ abuelita_!" She stole her granddaughter from Ben and bounced the little girl up and down. _"¡Perfecto!"_

"She does look really cute, Ben."

"Amy, hey!" Ben grinned his enveloped his ex-girlfriend in a warm hug. After which he smiled in the direction of Ashley Juergens and Anne Juergens, greeting them with small waves. "I'm so glad you could all make it!"

Anne stood beside Ashley, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Her eyes kept drifting over to Cindy. "Congratulations on Mercy's first birthday, Ben."

"Thanks, Ms. Juergens. I couldn't be happier! It's – it's an amazing feeling. I can't even find a way to accurately describe everything going through my head today."

Anne cleared her throat and tugged at Ashley's wrist. "Well, why don't we go put the gift over on the table? I think I see Ricky over there right now."

Ashley whipped her head around to see Heather and Ricky attempting to clear a spot for Ricky's present amongst the gifts. "It looks like they could use help," the freshman readily agreed before bolting for the gift table with Anne.

Before the situation could get anymore awkward a loud whistle ripped through the air. "Well look at her!" Bunny called in approval. "She's almost as adorable as my own children!" She gave Leo a tight hug. "Is everyone here then?"

"I think we can officially get the party started," Leo nodded.

Bunny raised her hands and waved them to something in the distance and from the crowd two trumpet players came forward and flanked either side of the table containing the absurdly large and multi-layered birthday cake that might as well have been a poorly undercover wedding cake. The players blew their horns and Bunny promptly clapped her hands as the noise of the guests quieted down considerably. "Introducing the guest of honor: our very own Sausage Princess, Mercy Lee!"

Leo accepted Mercy from Cindy and held her up high for everyone to see. "Let me just be the first to say: happy birthday!" He kissed Mercy's cheek and the guests exploded in cheers and applause.

Bunny picked up a candle lighter from the table and lifted her arm high to the top of the cake where a pink candle in the shape of a number one was sitting. She lit the wick and then turned to the grand and in her best choir voice began to sing: "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!"

The guests promptly joined, chorusing, "Happy birthday dear Mercy! Happy birthday to you!"

Adrian wiped her eye, feeling a happy tear attempting to slip between her lashes. As she watched Leo hold Mercy up to the candle and help her blow it out, she felt Ben entwine his hand with hers.

"And many more," Ben murmured.

Adrian nodded. "And many more."

Once the candle was out, Bunny proudly grabbed the knife, cut out the first slice, and plated it before holding it out towards the crowd. "And now, as my boss loves to say: let's eat!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Five hours later Ben and Adrian were seated on Ben's bed. His room had disappeared into the undertow of toys, clothes, boxes, bags, tissue paper from every spectrum of the rainbow, and torn up wrapping paper. Ben had his laptop in his lap and Adrian had a stack of gifts piled onto the bed in front of her. She currently had Ricky's gift bag in her lap and was taking the tissue paper out.

"This one's from Ricky?" Ben clarified.

"Yeah."

Ben typed _Ricky Underwood_ into his word document, followed by a dash. He was in the process of cataloguing the gifts and who had brought them in order to send out the proper thank you cards.

"It's a bilingual Spin N' Learn!" Adrian beamed, yanking the shiny box from the bag. "Oh, this is perfect! I know my mother will put this to good use."

"She's never going to learn 'dada,'" Ben whined in his best joking voice.

Adrian set the Spin N' Learn onto the pile of gifts she'd already unwrapped and dropped the bag off the side of the bed into a pile with other bags and discarded wrapping paper. She grabbed the next gift which was square and wrapped in simple pink paper. "Where did this come from?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's wrapped, but it's got a computer printed mailing sticker on it."

"Who's it from?"

Adrian turned the box over. "There's no return address," she said. Then she noticed the mailing stamp. "But it does look like it was mailed in San Francisco. Do you have relatives in San Francisco?"

"Not that I know of. Do you?"

"No." Adrian shrugged and began to tear open the edges of the package until she could slide the contents out. Under the paper was a standard U.S. mailing box. Adrian open it up and shook it. A second later what looked at first like a thick book fell into her hands. Upon closer inspection, however, the book actually had a cloth cover. It was sewn in a patchwork style with a rosebud speckled background fabric and had a pink fleece binding. A little square trimmed in white lace was on the front and the name _Mercy Lee_ had been carefully stitched into the center with thick pink thread.

"It looks like someone put a lot of time into this," Ben observed. "Is it a scrapbook?"

Adrian carefully opened the first page which contained a hospital photo of Mercy. _May 11, 2009_ was written below the photo, along with the name of the hospital, in golden calligraphic ink. The Latina's hand flew to her mouth.

"What?"

"Don't you recognize the handwriting?" she whispered.

Ben shook his head. "Should I?"

"It's…" Adrian's hand quivered as she pinched the corner of the page and turned it.

"Grace!" Ben gasped. There, right before his eyes on the second page, was a picture of Mercy and Grace, taken just a week after Mercy's birth. The caption read: _Mercy & Auntie Grace_.

Adrian grabbed the wrapping paper again and looked at the ink stamp that declared it as having been sent in San Francisco. "She's alive, Ben! She's alive and she's there!" She shoved the paper at him. "But why?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

The blue glow of a Motel 6 sign gave the top of Grace's blonde head a surreal hue as she stood outside unloading her Susan G. Komen luggage case from the trunk of her Prius. The case was a little scuffed up and fairly dirty around the edges now. She gave the trunk a firm slam and hit the button on her keychain, arming her car. She dropped her luggage case onto the ground and pulled up the handle, wheeling the luggage case up to a smudged white door. She wiped her key card, waited for the light above the handle to turn green, and then pushed the handle down and trudged inside.

Grace rolled her suitcase over to the closet and propped it up against the door. Her purse was already sitting on the foot of the bed. She plopped down next to it and wormed her hand around inside of it until she pulled out a half filled pack of gum, unwrapped it slowly as though she were unwrapping a delicately packaged present, and then popped the green rectangle into her mouth and chewed it methodically.

Finally she turned to look over her shoulder, glancing at a digital clock on the bedside table: _9:29 P.M. _Grace pressed her palms to the edge of the mattress and thrust her weight against it, propelling herself up from the bed. She headed for the bathroom where the light and fan were already on. Three plastic cups were stacked upside down in a small plastic bag next to an unopened bar of soap on the corner of the sink. She tore open the bag, pulled off a cup, and ran it half full with cold water.

Grace closed her eyes, allowing some of the water to dribble down the corners of her mouth, although the majority eased across her tongue and down the back of her hot, dry throat. In her mind's eye she pictured Mercy, then she tried to imagine what kind of party Leo had thrown for her. She'd been looking forward to the party for months and it burned her inside, at a place where her cold water couldn't reach, to know that she had missed such a monumental moment in Mercy's life.

She looked down at the plastic cup in her hands. Suddenly her mind flashed to the video that Adrian had recorded of Grant at the Halloween party, crushing up the cup in his hand and letting the punch spill over his fist like blood. Grace firmly slammed the empty cup back down on the counter and laid both her hands on the edge of the sink, staring long and hard at herself in the mirror. She scarcely recognized the young woman looking back at her. Then, slowly, she broke eye contact with her reflection and bent over, reaching towards the toilet lid. When she brought her hand back up, she was holding something she never could've dreamed of: a long white stick. A tear carved its way down her right cheek as she turned the stick over to read the results.


	2. Accentuate The Negative

**A/N: **Just as a heads up, I'm going on vacation next week, so I probably won't be updating for a few weeks. I'll try to get another update or two in before then.

_**Turning Tables**_

**Accentuate The Negative**

The kitchen was alight with the warm yellow-white glow bursting in from the windows as Kathleen Bowman sat at her kitchen table with her left hand covering her mouth. Her ex-husband, George Juergens, sat beside her, his left hand covering her right. Across from her sat Ben and Adrian and in the center of the table was the San Francisco stamped wrapping paper and the handmade photo album, opened to the picture of Grace and Mercy. Kathleen's face was visibly wet and her whole body was shaking.

"That's Grace's handwriting, isn't it?" Adrian asked, looking determinedly at the blonde. "_Please_ tell me that's Grace's handwriting!"

Kathleen pulled her hand out from under George's and with no more than a whimper, she fled from the kitchen.

George lifted his right hand to his head warily and scratched through the thinning hairs to his scalp. "I'm sorry," he said. "She was inconsolable for weeks after Grace disappeared and then she entered this state that I'm not even sure how to describe. Catatonic, maybe? But that's probably not right either." His eyes shifted to the photograph. "It was only during the past two weeks maybe that she was coming around to speaking to Tom and I again. Sometimes if we caught her unexpectedly, we could even make her laugh or smile, until she remembered that Grace wasn't here to laugh and smile with her."

"I'm sorry," Ben said, because he didn't know what else to say. "If there's anything we can do –"

"You can't. I've been Kat a long time and unless she has something to focus on, she goes inside herself to cope with emotional trauma. When Marshall died, for instance, she had Tom and Grace to focus on. Particularly Grace. Tom may have Down Syndrome, but he's pretty good at taking care of himself. However, back when Kat and I got divorced and her parents, mostly her mother, cut her out of their lives because they didn't believe in divorce, she was pretty bad off for a long time…until she met Marshall."

A hiccupping croak from the entrance to the kitchen caused all three occupants to turn their hands. Kathleen was back, wiping her running nose and tearing eyes with a ratty tissue with one hand and holding a card in the other. She return to her seat and set the card on the table, revealing it to be a Christmas card with a picture of an angel depicted against a snowy background on a twinkling, star filled the Virgin Mary holding her newborn child beneath the star of Bethlehem. The words on the front said: _Merry Christmas Mom_... She opened it up and set it next to the photo album and quickly pointed to the words _Auntie Grace_ beneath the caption and words _Love, Grace_ at the end of the card. Tears splashed against the table. "It's exactly the same," she whispered. "It's Grace!"

George wrapped his hand around Kathleen's shoulders. "We should take this to the police. I know that they've already distributed her picture around town and in surrounding areas and put out a watch for her car, I don't think any of us ever dreamed that she'd end up in San Francisco."

"That's the thing," Adrian said. "If she's still there – if she's been there all along – _why?_ We all thought she was abducted. I thought Grant had something to do with it: with her car missing, her bank account being drained…I was sure it was a cover up! It's just not in her nature to do this! But now…"

"We think she _chose_ to leave. Just look at this photo album. The cover, the pages…they're all handmade. This took time, thought, dedication. That's all Grace! And then she made sure it arrived in time for Mercy's birthday. If she was being held captive somewhere, how could she do that? I mean, I guess any situation is possible, but it seems unlikely that she'd have the ability to do this if she were being held against her will."

"But to walk out on her entire life – her family, her friends, her boyfriend, her future – none of it makes any goddamn sense!" Adrian said, her voice turning into a yell at the end of her sentence. "Grace is the most dedicated person I have ever met! I just don't understand how this could happen!"

Ben quickly slid his arms around Adrian and pulled her close. "I know. I know," he whispered. "And we're going to get to the bottom of this, aren't we?" He looked to George pleadingly.

"You kids better get to school," George instructed. "Kathleen and I will take this down to the station right away."

"I don't want to go to school," Adrian argued. "Finding Grace is more important!"

"Adrian, you know Mr. Molina wanted to meet with you today. Plus you have that calculus test too."

"But –"

"We'll handle this," George promised. He spread his arm across the table, sweeping the packaging, photo album, and card to the edge of the table. "If they need to speak with you, we'll let you know immediately. But I don't want either of you missing anymore school of this. You missed enough when Grace first went missing and this is not the time to be failing your classes or letting your grades drop."

"He's right," Ben insisted. "You know he's right, Adrian."

Adrian buried her face into Ben's shoulder. "I just want her back so badly."

Kathleen reached across the table to touch Adrian's hand. "I know."

Adrian suddenly rose and moved to Kathleen and the latter also stood up from her seat. They embraced tightly, Kathleen openly crying and Adrian attempting to hold everything in, although the stinging in her eyes and the swelling of her throat was making that increasingly difficult.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Who is it?"

"Vera, it's me, Grace!" The blonde stood on a porch stoop, staring intently at the blue door on the other side of the metal barred screen door that stood in front of it. Moments later the door opened and Grace smiled fondly at the older woman from behind the door and stepped back as Vera unlocked the screen and pushed it open.

"I'm sorry," Vera said softly. "I don't get many visitors, so I wasn't sure."

"Completely understandable," Grace said, stepping over the threshold. She looked around: the living room was small and made that much smaller by all the potted and hanging plants that filled its crevices. Her eyes skipped past a five gallon fish tank containing a single purple male betta fish and then settled on the sofa, where an old Siamese cat was sprawled out sleeping.

"We missed you at group again today," Vera said, ushering Grace into her miniature kitchen. "Are you feeling all right, dear?"

Grace sat down at the tiny round table and noted how much the kitchen reminded her of something she might find in a doll's house. She wrung her hands together and set them in front of her, rolling her thumbs around each other like oiled gears. "No, not really."

Vera turned a bottle of Hershey's chocolate upside down and squeezed it liberally into two mugs of cold milk. Then she took a spoon from her drawer and began to stir them, alternating between cups until the white milk had turned a delicious mocha color, nearly matching her skin tone. She dropped the spoon into the sink and carried the mugs over to the table, setting one before Grace and then sitting down with the other. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Grace wrapped her fingers around the handle of the mug and lifted it to her lips. Before the cold chocolate treat even had a chance to touch her lips, the aroma wafted into her nostrils and she felt her stomach church. She gasped and the mug slipped from her hand, falling five or six inches to the table. The brown milk spattered everywhere and a large chip flew off the rim of the mug, but the entire mug itself didn't shatter. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she yelled, flying up from her chair as the milk gushed over the edge of the table and splattered onto the chair and the floor. Grace's baby doll top and jeans were also dripping with milk.

Vera hurried to grab a handful of napkins and the dish towel hanging on the door of her oven to soak the mess up. "It's all right, dear. Accidents happen," she soothed, handing the towel to Grace and trying to clean up the spill with the napkins.

Grace began to blot herself as she watched Vera clean the mess. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Vera tossed the wad of drippy napkins into the trash basket and grabbed a dish rag from the faucet, doused it in water, rung it out, and continued to wipe up the remainder of the spill. "If you're planning to visit for a while, I'm sure we can get those clothes cleaned up. Do you have any other laundry you need to do while you're here?"

Grace smiled weakly. "Yeah, actually. A couple weeks worth, actually. I don't have a lot of money left, but I'll reimburse you for the detergent –"

"Nonsense! It's just little old me here and I go through detergent so slowly. You don't need to give me anything." She motioned her hand. "Why don't you go get your dirties out of your car and we can talk while they're washing, okay?"

Grace wrapped her arms around herself and smiled faintly. "Thanks, Vera. I appreciate your hospitality."

"This isn't hospitality," Vera laughed. "This is friendship. Now, spit spot!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Adrian, I'd like you to sit down for a minute." Marc Molina said from the swivel chair behind his desk. "I've got some really exciting news for you!"

"I don't know if I can handle anymore excitement," Adrian said somberly.

Mr. Molina squinted in confusion. "Anymore?" he queried, then his eyebrows shot up. "Oh, did you mean the birthday party? Congratulations, by the way. How was that?"

"The party itself was fine." Adrian fiddled with the purse straps in her lap. "I'm sorry, but I really have a lot on my mind right now and I should be using this time to try and study for a test. What did you need?"

Mr. Molina nodded and picked up a folder that was leaning up against his computer monitor. "I know this is last minute, but I wanted to be absolutely sure before I gave you the news…"

Adrian opened the folder and scanned the contents. "What is this?"

"It's an acceptance letter to Columbia's Junior-Senior Division summer program_ this_ summer, July twelfth through August sixth!"

Adrian stared blankly at it. "I never applied for this."

"You didn't have to. I put your name in for consideration and you were picked based on your academic record."

Adrian drew her long nail down the page. "It's in New York."

"On the Columbia campus, yes," Mr. Molina nodded. "You would be attending a Legal Reasoning, Research, and Writing course; highly intensive, but I know that's not an issue for you."

"It also says there's a three-thousand-two-hundred-fifteen dollar total tuition expense. I don't have that kind of money," she said monotonously.

"That's the best part!" Mr. Molina grinned, his face practically cracking from the way his mouth was stretching. "Turn the page."

At his command, Adrian flipped the page over and saw another acceptance letter. She barely read a few words in when she saw the word_ scholarship_.

"It's from _Los Latinos en la Ley_! As the name implies, they're an organization that works to help promote Latino leadership and law. You're familiar with our District Attorney, Mr. Enriquez?"

"Very," Adrian nodded.

"Well he's one of our notable local recipients of the _Los Latinos en la Ley _scholarships, but they help assist Latinos all over the state. They only offer a handful of summer scholarships every year and they are willing to cover the entire cost of your attendance to Columbia's program!"

Adrian firmly shut the folder and pushed it back to the counselor. "I can't go."

Mr. Molina blanched. "What?"

"I can't go. I have a baby and a missing best friend. How could I possibly go now?"

"Adrian, this is an incredible opportunity! You want a future in law and I'm handing you a giant stepping stone that you don't have to lift so much as a dollar for."

"And I told you: I. Can't. Go." She rose to her feet. "For what it's worth, I appreciate that you thought of me and if this had happened two years ago, I would've jumped at the offer, but it's not something I can afford to think about right now, I'm sorry."

Mr. Molina jumped up as Adrian grabbed for the door. "You have until the end of the month to accept," he said urgently. "Adrian, please think about this –"

"There's nothing to think about. Have a nice day."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I was wondering if you could give this to the group for me?" Grace asked, sliding an envelope from her purse across the table to Vera. "I know it's very cowardly of me, but I don't know what else to do."

"Are you leaving us?"

Grace looked down shamefully. "I have to."

Vera pressed her hand to Grace's forearm. "Are you on some kind of trouble, dear?"

"Some kind, yeah."

"What's happened?"

"I've spent nearly all of the money I had in my savings just being in San Francisco. I know living out of my car isn't like paying rent or anything, but there is the expense of gas and food and a motel room once a week just so I can get a shower."

"I told you that you could stay with me."

"I know. But I wasn't comfortable with that; I didn't want to impose."

"You wouldn't have been imposing."

"It's – I can't really explain it. I'm not your responsibility, Vera. You know my friend Heather, the one who gave her baby up for adoption that I've mentioned in group a few times? Well, at one point, after I'd been bringing her frozen meals for a couple months, my mom offered her a chance to stay in our guest house after her boyfriend and refurnished it, but she refused and I could never understand why. Now I guess I do."

"Are you going back home?" Vera asked. Her voice was small, like a child creeping down a dark hallway in the dead of night.

"Yes."

"Have you changed your mind? About confronting _him_?"

Grace shook her head. "Confronting him is not why I'm going back. I don't know what I'm going to do about _him_."

"Then what is it? What's made you change your mind so suddenly? I get the feeling that the money is not the only issue here."

"It's not," Grace whispered. She closed her eyes and felt water droplets move down her face. She pushed her chair backwards and pressed her hand to her stomach.

Vera was silent for a long time. "Are you…"

"Yes."

"_Him?"_

"Yes."

"Oh, dear," Vera whispered. She moved her chair forward and embraced the teenager tightly. "How long have you known?"

Grace's teeth chattered against Vera's shoulder. "I had spotting for a few days in April around the time I should've had my period. I thought that it was abnormal because of the stress: first the assault, then running away…I _wanted_ it to be stress. I mean, it's happened to me before – when my father died – so I rationalized that it could happen again. But then when I missed my period this month, I knew I had to take to take a test…and it was positive."

"You have options, you know."

"Yeah," Grace agreed. "I could either stay here and try to find a way to have the baby in secrecy or I can go home and tell my mother and my brother. And I know that I can't get through this pregnancy without them. So I have to go. I'm sorry. Please tell everyone that I'm sorry."

Vera tucked a stray curl behind Grace's ear. "I'm sure they'll understand." She leaned in to hug the teenager again. "And you have my address, so don't be a stranger."

Grace clung to Vera and sniffled something unintelligible in response.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky thrummed his drumsticks against the drums hanging from his marching band costume. He stood on the edge of a formation, with three other drummers in front of him. The whole marching band was in full practice, but the only thing ricocheting off his eardrums was the thunder of the four drum sets.

And then, just like that, there was silence. "Same time tomorrow!" the marching band instructor hollered across the field.

Ricky pressed his hand to his forehead, wiping a glaze of sweat away. Usually band practice was pretty routine for him and carrying the drums around didn't faze him, but today, his back yearned to be free of the heavy instruments as soon as humanly possible.

"Ricky, wait!" Jack Pappas hollered, running up to the drummer in his football uniform, nearly out of breath.

Ricky groaned inwardly. "You look a little out of breath there, Pappas. How can you be on the football team if you get that strung out just chasing after me?"

"We just got out of a pretty intense practice," Jack said, coughing once or twice between words. He reached into the duffle bag on his shoulder and retrieved a bottled water and drank it like he was on an old school Coca-Cola commercial.

Ricky averted his eyes, suddenly craving a bottle of ice cold water himself. "What do you want?"

Jack chucked the bottle back into his bag. "Did you hear about Grace?" he asked eagerly.

"She's still missing," he said. Although he had spoken with Adrian earlier in the day and had learned that they suspected her of being in San Francisco.

"I heard they found her!"

Ricky's eyebrow shot up skeptically. "From who?"

"Some of the cheerleaders were talking about it! Do you know anything?"

"Cheerleaders? Real legitimate sources there," he oozed sarcastically.

"But they said they overheard Adrian and Alice talking about it in the girls' bathroom!"

"Why don't you go ask Jason about it?" Ricky suggested.

"I was going to, but he wasn't at practice today." Jack followed Ricky into the locker room. "Come on, man! Do you know anything?"

"All I know is that they haven't found her," Ricky replied. "They just think they know where she _might_ be." He moved to a bench and began to remove his drum set and marching band costume.

Jack toyed with the lock on her gym locker until it popped open. "Are you sure?" he asked dejectedly. "The whole congregation's been praying for her safe return every week at church."

"A whole lot of good praying does," Ricky replied bitterly. He pulled on a blue t-shirt and jeans, dropped his drumsticks into his back pocket, and then filled his arms with the remainder of his band costume.

Jack raced after Ricky with his duffle bag bulging and half unzipped in his rush. "Hey, hey!" he called, slapping his hand on Ricky's shoulder to slow him down. "Do you really think the rumors are true?"

"I already told you what I know–"

"Not _those_ rumors," Jack interrupted. "The ones about Grace and that ex of hers."

Ricky cringed. "I think that guy's delusional."

"So you don't think she ran away because she had sex with him?" Jack asked for clarification.

"What does it matter to you anyway?" Ricky barked. "What she did or didn't do is none of your business!"

"Yeah, I know," Jack replied quietly. "It just makes me sick hearing the things people are saying about her."

"And what are people saying about her?"

"That she's a liar and a hypocrite; that she probably ran away because she got knocked up."

Ricky suddenly grabbed Jack by the collar and pushed him against a row of lockers. "That doesn't even make any sense!" he yelled. "If she wouldn't have sex with you, what on Earth would make you think she'd have sex with Grant? Don't perpetuate this bullshit by spreading it!"

"No, I know that! But without her here, it's only his word against no one's."

"His word against everyone who knew her," Ricky corrected.

"A fat lot of good that does in high school."

Ricky unclenched his hand from Jack's collar. "Just do yourself a favor and get out of my sight."

Jack shook his head. "I don't think she did it, but I thought I'd ask. Since, you know, you have experience with this stuff." He turned to walk out when Ricky grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"What 'stuff'?" he demanded. "What do I have 'experience' with?"

Jack looked around as a few guys, both jocks and band kids, cast glances at them as they were leaving the locker room. He waited until it had cleared out before saying, "Sexual abuse."

Ricky's brow furrowed. "What does that have to do with Grace?"

"You really haven't thought of it?" Jack asked. "Thought that Grant's story about having had sex with Grace might be a cover up? I mean…what if he – what he if really _did_ have sex with her? But she didn't consent to it?"

Ricky suddenly felt like the wind had been punched out of his chest. He didn't have the strength to stop Jack from leaving a second time. Instead he dropped down onto a nearby bench after the jock left and just sat there, replaying everything that had surfaced, leaked, reported, and/or been rumored about Grace's disappearance.

"Ricky?"

The drummer didn't know how long he'd been sitting there before he'd heard Amy's voice and looked up to find the sophomore standing in the doorway of the boys' locker room. "What are you doing here?" he managed to push out of his throat.

"I overheard you and Jack talking on the way in from practice. I've been waiting outside the locker room." She was still dressed in her band uniform with her French horn case dragging in one hand.

"You've been eavesdropping this whole time?"

"I wasn't trying to." Amy edged further into the locker room. "Or maybe I was."

"What do you care anyway? You don't even like the Bowmans!"

"That's not true! I – I don't like my _dad_ liking the Bowmans. But Grace was always nice to me, even if I wasn't as nice to her in return. But my point is: if Jack's right," she whispered, "why wouldn't she tell?"

Ricky stared incredulously at the sophomore for a long time. "If it was you," he whispered, "would you tell?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Kathleen's sleeping right now," George said, standing in the doorway of the Bowman residence. "But I'll tell her you stopped over."

"What did they say at the police station?" Adrian begged.

"They took everything to dust for fingerprints and they said they'd get in touch with law enforcement in San Francisco and issue a description of Grace and her car."

"That's all?" Ben asked.

"San Francisco's a big place. If that's where she is – or still is, assuming she didn't just pass through – she could be anywhere." George shook his head. "I'm sorry. I know how important Grace is to you both. And Kathleen and Tom. I promise I'm telling you everything we know."

"Thanks, Mr. Juergens," Ben nodded. He slid his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. "We should go. We need to get home and put Mercy to bed."

"Go get some rest," George insisted. "I'll have Kat call you tomorrow."

"Thanks, George," Adrian replied heavily. She let Ben lead her off the porch and down to the limo where he opposed the door for her. She climbed inside and scooted to the middle so Ben could sit beside her. Once the door was shut and the limo was moving she asked, "Do you think we're going to find her?"

"I'm starting to think that will depend on when she wants to be found."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

The sky was black and the moon was barely visible. According to a cheap calendar Grace had picked up as a Dollar Tree, it was gearing up to be a new moon. She stood beneath the harsh lights under the roof of an AMPM fill up station, with her hand on the pump that was currently draining into her car's tank. As she waited, her dull eyes searched the sky. It seemed that the stars were hiding, not unlike she had been for nearly two months. When the pump stopped she shook off the nozzle, wiggled the hose for good measure, and then hung it back up at the pump.

Grace shivered in the sting of the night air as she reached for her door. She climbed inside and slipped her key into the ignition, but didn't turn it on. Instead she looked to her passenger seat. It looked almost exactly the same as it had when she'd left Valley Glen for San Francisco in the first place: a purse, a cell phone, a white cash envelope from a bank, and an unfolded map of California. The floor of the seat also contained her pink Susan G. Komen luggage case. The difference this time was that everything – except for the phone which she'd mostly kept off to avoid being located via its GPS feature – was worse for wear: her purse was dirty and its strap frayed, the envelope was thin and ripped, the map was drawn on and had many visible wear lines where it had repeatedly been folded and reopened, and her luggage bag looked like something she'd had and used for years.

The blonde leaned over across the map, listening to it crumple beneath her weight, and opened up her glove box. She reached deep inside, beneath the car handbook, and pulled out a face down picture. When she turned it over it revealed a photograph of Grace during happier times, when her father was still alive: it was a family photo – Grace, her mother, her father, and Tom – with worn edges. She stared at the image of her father's face for a beat longer than the rest, then she pulled down her overhead mirror down and tucked the photo under the strap with her insurance and registration.

The ignition flared to life as soon as Grace turned the key. Her hands shakily met the steering wheel and she turned out onto the road. A sign indicated at the freeway was coming up in a half a mile and she felt the beat of her heart increase. The roads were surprisingly empty and Grace couldn't decide if that made her feel better or worse. Then something twinkled out of the corner of her eye and she angled her head up, looking towards the sky. The North Star shimmered at the blackened center, reminding Grace of the Christmas card she'd given her mother last year. She pressed the sole of her foot harder against the gas pedal and the needle gauging her speed jumped up to meet the posted speed limit signs. She flicked her eyes to her family photo. Old, wise words niggled at the back of her mind, but she was too tired to remember whose they were. "I have promises to keep," then she glanced at her map once more, "and miles to go before I sleep."


	3. Get Into Town

**A/N: ***creeps back to FFN* I'm sorry, everyone! Don't throw tomatoes! I got behind on my packing, so I didn't get to give you an update before I left and then I ended up staying almost a week later than I thought I would and when I got back and re-read what I had here, I just felt it needed a little something else, but I couldn't decide what. Don't hate me! It is done now. Also, as a precaution, this chapter has an "M" rating for adult themes.

_**Turning Tables**_

**Get Into Town**

It was some ungodly hour in the morning when Kathleen stumbled into kitchen. It was only mid-May, but it was unusually hot and even the light silk nightgown that she wore almost felt too hot. She stared at her bare feet and toes sticking to the tile as she walked over to the fridge and began to rummage through it: milk, orange juice, wine. All she wanted was some ice water. Frustrated, she slammed the door and reached for a glass in the drainer. Although the water felt cold enough from the tap with her finger, drinking it was an entirely different matter. Truth be told, water that wasn't cold enough only made her thirstier, but she drank it anyway, if only to wet her parched throat and sticky tongue.

Kathleen turned around and braced the curve of her back against the edge of the sink. The water level in the glass fell lower and lower until there was none left. Then a muddled image appeared on the other end of the glass: a figure in the shadows. Kathleen screamed and the glass fell from her hand. It hit the tile with a high pitched shatter. Her heart was pounding so fast she didn't even feel the small cuts on her bare feet and ankles; she didn't feel the tiny slivers of glass embedded in her skin.

"Hi, Mom."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"_Ricky, all the buses are gone, what are you still doing here?"_

_Ten-year-old Ricky sat propped up against the side of the school building, his backpack beside him. "I don't want to go home," he said without looking at his teacher._

_The teacher, a petite blonde woman with bob cut and bangs down to her eyebrows, set her briefcase down and sat down on the dirty cement beside him. "Did you have a fight with your parents?" she asked softly._

_Ricky bit down on his lip. "I don't want to talk about it."_

"_That's all right," the teacher responded. "Sometimes my mom and I get into fights too. But she still loves me and I still love her, just as I'm sure your mom still loves you."_

"_I didn't get into a fight with my mom," he glared._

"_Your father then?" She touched Ricky's knee. "Come on, I'm sure he didn't mean it. Why don't you let me walk you down to the office and we'll call up your parents and get this straightened out, okay?"_

_Ricky violently pushed the blonde's hand off his knee. "No! I can't go home! You can't make me go home!" Tears sprang from his eyes and he began to shake his head. "Please!" he begged. "Please don't make me go home!"_

_The teacher reached out for him again, but stopped herself. "Ricky, why don't you want to go home? I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on."_

_Ricky hugged his knees to his chest. "You can't help me," he whispered, shaking his head violently._

"_What could be so bad?" she whispered._

_Ricky wiped his eyes with his balled up fists. "M-my dad."_

"_Wh – what does your father do that's so bad?"_

"_He – he –" Ricky's voice cracked, like a television popping and then the screen blacking out. His voice was so quiet in response that the woman couldn't understand him at all._

_The blonde leaned closer. "What does he do?"_

"_He shows me what it's like…to be a man in the world."_

_Her voice shuddered, afraid to know: "What does that mean?"_

_Ricky leaned close to her and pushed away the strands of hair from around her ear. He cupped his hands around her ear like he was trapping a butterfly and whispered into her ear._

Ricky awoke in a cold sweat with his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn't count how many times he'd had the same nightmare in the last two nights, ever since his conversation with Jack in the locker room on Wednesday. He sat up and clamored for his phone in the darkness. When he finally found it, the sharpness that the light from the LCD screen gave off hurt his eyes. His fingers brushed across the keypad and he dialed an emergency number that he knew from memory, though he'd never actually used it in practice before.

"H – hello?" came a gruff, garbled voice, like someone was yawning as they spoke.

"Dr. Fields?" Ricky whispered.

"Ricky?"

"Yeah," Ricky said, his stomach feeling so flimsy that he opted to look over the side of his bed just to make sure his trashcan was in reach.

"What's going on?"

"I can't stop thinking about something," he confessed. "I'm sorry I'm calling you at this hour, but I _need_ to talk."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Kathleen approached her daughter as if in a trance, not quite believing what she was seeing. "Grace?" The word glided off of her lips like a phantom touch.

"It's me," Grace nodded, rising from the kitchen table.

Kathleen stumbled forward until she stood face to face with her baby. She lifted her hands to Grace's face and touched cheeks, the contours of her eyes, the curve of her nose. Her voice hitched at the back of her throat.

Grace, in turn, lifted her hand to her mother's face. After being away so long, she had to be sure it wasn't another vivid dream. Then something jolted her out of her trance: a harsh, blistering smack to the side of her face. She gasped and pulled away, touching her rapidly heating cheek. Her mother had _never_ hit her before: she'd never spanked her or even given her so much as a smack on the wrist.

Kathleen shaky hand covered her mouth. "Oh my God," she whispered, eyes tearing up. "I – I didn't mean –"

"It's okay," Grace whispered, blinking back her tears. "I deserved that."

Kathleen shook her head vehemently. She suddenly grasped Grace's face again and smoothed her fingers over the hot wound. "It's really _you_. You're really here!"

"I'm so sorry," Grace whispered. "I didn't want to leave."

"Why?" Kathleen's voice sounded like metal scraping against cement. "What could have been so horrible that you would do this to us? Your friends? Your brother? _Me?_"

Grace dropped her head to look at the floor. "You're bleeding," she said, noticing the cuts and glass in her mother's feet and ankles. She dropped to her knees and began to pick out the tiny pieces of glass.

Kathleen shook her head and knelt down in front of Grace, taking away her excuse to avoid eye contact. "Gracie, what did I do? Or was it something I didn't do?"

"It had nothing to do with you at all."

"Then what? _What?_"

Grace closed her fingers around the glass shards in her palm. It was tempting to curl her hand into a fist and embed all of the shards into her flesh, but she didn't. Instead, she moved her free hand to the edge of her poncho and lifted it, revealing a very faint protrusion on her stomach. "I'm pregnant."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian awoke to find her mother sitting on a chair at her bedside, staring at her. She stretched and pushed her pillow beneath herself to prop herself up. "Is there something going on?"

"You tell me."

Adrian stared back blankly. "If I knew, I wouldn't have asked."

Cindy rose from her chair. "Why didn't you tell me about your summer scholarship?"

Adrian grit her teeth. "Mr. Molina!" she hissed. "He had no right to tell you."

"Oh, he didn't? I'm your mother!" Cindy pointed a finger at her daughter. "And I've got news for you: you're going to that program!"

Adrian threw her sheets off in a rage. "I am_ not_ going to that program and you can't make me!"

"Wanna bet?"

"I'm eighteen!" Adrian hurled back. "You have no grounds to make me do anything I don't want anymore! And even if I wasn't, you still couldn't make me go. You've never been able to make me do something I didn't want to!"

Cindy slammed the bottom of her fist against the wall. "Adrian! You have no idea how hard I've worked to make sure you have a good future –"

"Yeah, I do!" Adrian cut in. "I remember it because you _weren't there!_"

The anger from Cindy's face drained considerably. "Is that what this is about?" she asked, her voice nearly cracking. "You think that leaving your daughter to go to this program would be like me leaving you?"

Adrian looked away. "It's a four week program. I can't just up and walk out on her."

Cindy sat down next to Adrian on the bed. "It's not the same thing at all, Adrian. It's_ just_ four weeks."

"It's too long."

"You were ready to let Ben take her to Italy all last summer."

"That's different," Adrian replied.

"How?"

"I was being selfish then, I wanted a break." Adrian tried not to let the hurt in her mother's face get to her. "I rationalized it by saying that she would be too young to remember anyway. And maybe she would be again, but she's already a year old! She won't understand me abandoning her now."

Cindy stretched her arm around Adrian's shoulders and worked her fingers against her daughter's taut skin. "This isn't just about me," she realized. "Adrian, you have no idea why Grace left. Maybe she was being selfish. But, maybe she wasn't. _You_ don't know. And either way, it's not your fault."

"You don't know that it's not. And even if it isn't, it_ feels_ like it is. I should've tried harder to talk to her; to find out why she was being so distant. Maybe then she wouldn't have left?"

"Or pressuring her to talk about it could have pushed her away even faster."

"This is going to go on forever," Adrian said, rising up from the bed. "The point is: I'm not going to make Mercy feel like that. _Ever!_ I can't leave her."

"Adrian, it's not the same thing. When I went to work and left you with my parents, that was wrong. Clearly, I had no idea how that would affect you later on. They weren't the kind of people to leave a child with and, having grown up with them, I should've known that. But retrospect is always twenty-twenty, isn't it? But the difference here is that Mercy has two loving grandparents and a_ very _loving father to look after her. And it's not like you can't video chat with her; it's not like she won't see you."

Adrian walked over to the crib and peered over the edge. She was surprised to see that her daughter was still sound asleep, despite the argument ensuing in the same room. She leaned over the edge and stroked the side of her baby girl's face.

"Going to that program is as much for your benefit as it is for hers."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Kathleen's face was leathery from being so dried out by the salty tears that had been cascading from her eyes over the few hours that she had sat at the kitchen table with her daughter, as the sun rose in the sky outside, filling the kitchen with natural light. She enveloped Grace for the umpteenth time. "You could have come to me," she whispered. Guilt saturated every syllable. "I wouldn't have turned you away, Gracie. I swear, I wouldn't have blamed you-"

"I know," Grace cried, sobbing equally as hard into her mother's chest. "I know you wouldn't have. But I couldn't! I just couldn't! You don't understand what I went through!"

"No," Kathleen agreed, shaking her head. "I don't."

"There was so much _pain_," she said, gritting her teeth at the memory. "And I don't just mean the physical pain…and the blood."

Kathleen winced as brutal images crammed into her mind's eyes.

"But the emotional pain too. Being _exposed_ to someone like _that!_" She hugged her stomach. "I think about it all the time…about that feeling of being so _invaded_. And he – he –" She covered her mouth, feeling nauseas at the mere though. "He kept telling me that he _loved_ me." A fresh spring of tears sprouted from her eyes. "And then the spiritual humiliation! When it was all over and he'd finally left, I just kept thinking about how much I must have disgraced God-"

"_No."_ Kathleen gripped her daughter by the arms and forced the teenager to look her dead in the eyes. "Don't you say that! Don't you dare even _think_ it! Grace, you know that God would never blame you for this!"

Grace looked away, tears spilling down her raw cheeks. "I was supposed to save myself until marriage!" she screamed, wrenching herself away from her mother. "My first time was supposed to be with the man I love and who loves me in return! It wasn't supposed to be like this!" she shrieked. "If I hadn't gotten together with Grant…if I'd waited and not thrown myself into a relationship like Adrian warned me against, then I wouldn't be in this situation!"

The elder blonde stood forcefully, grabbed her daughter by the arm, and pulled her to her chest, molding herself around Grace. "You listen to me, Grace Kathleen Bowman: _This. Is. Not. Your. Fault. _You did _nothing_ wrong! Grant was the one who did this to you: he violated you in the worst way possible and you did _nothing_ to provoke it! _He_ made the choice, _not you!_"

Grace went limp in her mother's arms, like dough that had been handled for far too long. She felt her mother's nightgown growing hot and wet beneath her cheek as it soaked in her sobs. "I'm weak," she cried. "I'm a coward! I couldn't even face him! I ran aw-away and hurt everyone I l-l-love!"

Kathleen brushed her hand through Grace's tangles and found herself missing the flowing hair that used to go all the way down her daughter's back, but now only fell to her shoulders. "You're not a coward, Gracie. Nobody's going to blame you for being scared."

"But I r – r- an away!" She balled the fabric of her mother's nightgown into her fists. "I feel so humiliated; so _disgusting!_"

Kathleen pressed her lips to the top of Grace's head and kissed her warmly. "You're safe now, Grace. And whenever you're ready, we'll go to the authorities together."

Grace shook her head against her mother's chest. "What could they possibly even do now? It's been so long."

Kathleen bit her lip, hesitating to even ask. "Do you have any evidence?" she hedged. "The clothes you were wearing the night he att – the night it happened?"

Grace was silent for a long time, then she slowly pulled herself back. She wiped her running nose against her sleeve and nodded slowly, all the while looking at the cold tile floor. "I have the clothes…and the sheets. I hid them…and then snuck in late the night I left, after you'd fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for me, and loaded everything into my car. I was going to burn it…and then I couldn't bring myself to open the bags again."

"We need it. All of it. Anything and everything!"

Grace started to shake her head. "But it's so old now-"

"Crime scenes a lot older than this have been processed before, Grace. We need that evidence. I want to go at him with everything we've got, no matter how minute. Especially now."

"What do you mean, 'especially now'?"

Kathleen hesitated, but the look in Grace's eyes told her that she couldn't avoid telling her daughter the truth. There had been enough secrets between them already, and the longer she kept the one she had, the more inevitable harm it would do. "Gracie, there's something you need to know."

Grace shuddered. Her legs suddenly felt like they were trying to dissolve into dust pillars and blow away enough her. She put her hand back, feeling for the chair. Her stomach began to churn as she blindly found the edge and pulled it to herself and fell backwards against the hard wood. "Wh – what?" she sputtered.

"The police have already questioned Grant."

Grace stared blankly. "And?"

Kathleen lurched forward, taking Grace's hands in hers. "And he told them…he told them you had sex."

There was a calm, like a blanket of white snow, concealing something deep and deadly beneath its deceptively calm web of virgin flakes. "Consensual?" she asked, her voice hallow and monotonous.

Kathleen could only nod in confirmation.

Suddenly Grace tore her hands out from under her mother's and blew out of her chair. She slammed her fists against the kitchen table and then grabbed the edge in a Hulk-like rage and shoved it with all the rage she could produce, sending it slamming into the kitchen door. The impact was so hard that a sound of glass splintering ripped through the kitchen before a fine sheen of crystals fell onto the table's surface. "He's going to get away with it!"

"You don't know that!" Kathleen responded, already risen from her chair.

"Yes I do! Rape victims aren't victims! They're guilty until proven innocent as far as the law is concerned!"

Kathleen struggled to maintain her composure. "So you're prepared to let him get away with this, is that what you're saying?"

"That's not what I said! That's – that's not fair!"

"Neither is Grant getting off for what he did to you! And what he could very well do again if he gets away with it this time!"

Grace shook her head violently. "Are you trying to scare me?"

"Scare you? Grace, I think you've been scared enough. I'm trying to help you see reason."

"Reason?" she scoffed. "Reason! Pray tell: what _reason_ could God possibly have for me getting raped and pregnant at sixteen!" At her mother's speechless expression, she added loudly: "And don't you dare put the weight of other potential victims on my shoulders! If you think I haven't thought about that already myself, you're grievously mistaken!"

Kathleen nodded solemnly. "You're right. You're absolutely right. This is your call, Grace." She pursed her lips, unsure of what else she could say. "I will support you, whatever you decide."

Grace felt the weight of the proverbial ball land in her court and frankly, after expending so many tears and so much rage, she didn't know what to do. She was exhausted – physically and emotionally – and she simply had no drive to send it back.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky hugged Dr. Fields' familiar red sofa pillow to his abdomen as he sat across from his therapist. "I can't stop thinking about Jack's theory. The more I think about it, the more sick I feel. It would answer so many questions; fill in so many cracks. Why didn't I think of it before?"

"You said yourself this is only a theory, Ricky. Everyone wants Grace back and everyone wants to know what's happened, but without any evidence-"

"I may not know what happened to her, but I do know that she'd never have had sex with Grant."

"You can never be certain about people, Ricky, they'll always surprise you."

"Not Grace," Ricky replied firmly.

Dr. Fields studied him for a moment before deciding that there was no way to make Ricky budge on the topic, so he settled on a different approach: "Why don't you tell me about what made you decide to tell the truth to your teacher?"

Ricky looked up suddenly, clearly taken aback. "We've been through this," he replied haughtily. "Years ago, in fact. Why drudge it all up now?"

"You were the one who called me, remember?" Dr. Fields responded coolly. "And if I may: you always skirted the edges of this topic. I've handled enough abuse patients to be able to fill in some of the things you left vague, but I certainly never got the complete story. So now that it had been drudged up, why not talk about it now?"

Ricky looked down at the pillow and fiddled with the corner. He didn't want to close his eyes, because he didn't want his mind to take him back to those days. Instead he stayed focused on the top left corner of the pillow. "You know he'd been abusing me since I was five," he said, his voice barely higher than a whisper.

"Yes."

"Well one night after another one of his 'lessons,' I'm laying awake in my bed, listening to the heater vent in fear that he's going to come back up again – sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't – and then I hear him talking to someone. A man. The voice was familiar, but I couldn't tell you who he was or what he looked like. I knew his voice only because he was one of my mo – one of Nora's 'semi-regulars.' And the more I listened, the more I realized: they were talking about _me_. And then all of the sudden, I hear it: the word 'price.' They were talking about prices for me! The bastard was going to sell me, just like he tried to ransom Adrian to Mr. Boykewich!"

Dr. Fields tried to keep his face still. "You never spoke to me about any of this before."

"Why would I?" Ricky fired back. His head suddenly shot up. "Every night was a living hell! I wanted to die, I prayed for it! And every day I woke up to a brand new morning. After a few years, I tried to put myself on autopilot. Every time I got down on my knees or bent over the bed, I tried to send myself somewhere else. It never worked. The only consolation I had was that at least nobody else knew: nobody else but my drugged up mother that is and she was never around to _see_ anything anyway. But after I heard that conversation, I knew I couldn't bear the humiliation of being someone else's waste basket! I decided that night that I would go to school and never come back. But once it came time to actually do it, I didn't know what to do or where to go, so I just sat there at the wall."

"Where Miss Olkin found you?"

"Yes. And I wasn't going to tell her; I _wasn't!_ But she kept pushing me and she was going to make me go home and – and…I couldn't stand it anymore!"

"So you told her."

"About the abuse, _all _of it, but not about the conversation. I couldn't…that was the whole point. I'd guess that the bastard already knew what that monster did to me, but I didn't want one more person to know. And I sure as hell wasn't going to bend over for anyone else!"

"I know that the state didn't take custody of you immediately," Dr. Fields said, treading carefully. "What happened?"

Ricky swallowed, but his throat felt like it was coated in sand and filled with cotton. "Bob knew something was wrong when I came home with a police escort. He talked to my parents for hours and I just listened from my room. There wasn't much they could do, but you already know that. And of course he was furious and bursting through my door before the cop had even pulled away from the curb. But at that point, I knew I had some leverage. Not much, but a little, and I used it: I told him that if he hurt me, or if I suddenly didn't show up to school the next day, or if I 'went missing,' they'd be able to see right through his 'loving father' façade."

"And how did Bob react?"

"He wanted to kill me. I have no doubts about that. He would have too, if there was any way he could have gotten away with it. So instead he just told me to get on my knees and say my prayers. And when that was done, he took the rest of his rage out on my mom, who then disappeared to where ever by the next morning. And that's how it was every day after, until one day an officer showed up outside my class room and said I was coming with him." Ricky made a sweeping motion with his hand. "And you know everything after that because you were there."

"I appreciate your honesty, Ricky. I appreciate that you agreed to tell me this."

"This is just between us," he said quietly.

"As it's always been."

Ricky let his head fall to his chest. He suddenly felt zapped. Grace was also still at the back of his mind, but thankfully not at the forefront. Not that that would last for long, he was sure. "I think I should go."

"Are you sure? You're more than welcome to stay. I don't have another appointment for several hours."

"I need to be alone."

"Of course." Dr. Fields stood and offered his hand. "I trust I'll see you for our next regular appointment then?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Ricky fumbled out of the door, the office, and the building. It was only once he got to his car that he realized he was still clinging to Dr. Fields' pillow. He paused, looking back at the building, debating whether or not to take it back inside. Ultimately, he chose to unlock his car and fling it into the passenger seat. It could wait. He just needed to be alone.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Ms. Lee?"

Adrian's head snapped up at the nasally voice. It was the end of the day and she was a thousand miles from the white board, her textbook, and all of her peers. She forged a smile. "I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?"

The teacher, a pencil thin woman wearing a pantsuit with a ruffled stark white shirt that was neatly tucked in, folded her skeletal arms and peered down her elongated nose at the Latina. "I'll let you off with a warning this time, Ms. Lee, but only because you're usually one of my best pupils: pay attention from here on out, _thank you_."

Adrian forced another smile and wordlessly pushed her textbook over the folder filled with the summer program and scholarship information. She'd picked it up from Mr. Molina's office in between classes that morning and now she couldn't focus on anything else. She wanted to blame it all on the fight with her mother, but she also knew that her mom was also right, and that was the most frustrating part.

She dared to sneak a peek at the clock when the teacher turned back to write the homework assignment on the board. "Two minutes," she exhaled. Adrian shut her textbook and quietly slipped it into her bag – it was one of the classes in which packing early was frowned upon – and she quickly began to copy down the homework reading pages as sluggishly as she could manage. The bell rang just as she was making the dot of her period.

As if suddenly endowed with energy from above, the class broke into a frenzy of backpack stuffing, followed by a stampede towards the door. Adrian lingered behind until most everyone was out, then she dropped her assignment into her bag, zipped it up, but left out Mr. Molina's folder. She carried it somberly to the door and stepped cautiously out into the hallway, looking both ways as if she were about to cross a busy street.

Noting that she was not about to be bowled over by anyone or anything, Adrian stepped into the fray and hurried down to her locker to pick up her books for her other classes. When she arrived, she found Ben already standing there with a smile on his face. She tried to force a cheerful look onto her face as he leaned in for a soft brush against her lips.

"What's wrong?" he asked, frowning when she didn't seem to return his affections.

"We need to talk."

"Those are four words that almost never end well."

"Can you call your driver and tell him you don't need a ride? I can take you to work."

Ben slid his hand under Adrian's elbow to hold her in front of him. "What's going on?"

Adrian rotated her wrist and let it fall back, holding up the folder to her boyfriend. "Here."

Ben piqued an eyebrow and took the folder with an uneasy gaze. He kept his eye on her expression, but when it didn't change, he finally looked down and opened the folder. After a few minutes of analyzing the information, he looked up again. "This is amazing! Is this for real?"

"Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?"

"The timing, Ben. Mercy and-"

"Grace." Ben sighed and shut the folder, setting it momentarily inside Adrian's open locker. He touched the back of his hand to her face, where her cheek curved into her chin. "You know I care about Grace too, but we can't do anything more than what we've already done. You know that. And you also know that I am perfectly capable of taking care of our daughter. You realize that you almost didn't go to Italy with me last summer because of Grace, too, don't you? And look at the gift that such an opportunity gave us. Each other."

Adrian closed her eyes, relishing the warmth of his knuckles ghosting against her skin. Then she pushed his hand away. "And look what happened to Grace because she went to that stupid med camp! If we had just stayed home together all summer, she might have never even seen Grant again and maybe she wouldn't be missing now."

Ben snatched up the folder. "Should I call in sick today?"

Adrian stole the folder right out of his hands. "No. You go to work, just the same as always. We can talk about this later."

"Fine," Ben agreed. "But know that I'm not letting this go. You're not just going to tell me we're going to discuss it later, we _will_ discuss it later: as soon as I get home." He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned away, and his lips missed her mouth and instead hit her cheek. Ben felt his stomach drop, but decided that the kiss was a battle he was willing to lose. The invitation to the summer program, however, was not.

Adrian stood statue still until her boyfriend had receded into the crowd and out the double doors. Finally, she blew out a long breath and then turned to her open locker and thrust her head inside, resting it against the cold metal wall, wishing she was small enough to crawl inside and hide away from all the responsibilities and tough decisions that were weighing down on her.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

The entrance to the Valley Glen police station swung in slowly and as it swung back to shut, the toe of a sneaker wedged itself in the doorway. The door pushed back again and Grace pushed her way inside, hugging herself as she entered. She watched the officers mill about, all business as usual, none of them noticing her. After getting inside, she didn't move an inch.

A hand touched Grace's lightly, feather soft, and Grace turned her head to see her mother standing by her side. Although she wasn't actively looking for it, she glanced over to see that in Kathleen's right hand was a large bulging white trash bag. She shivered and clamped her mother's hand tighter. Then, from the other side, she felt another hand – larger, chubbier – take her left hand, and she turned to see her brother, Tom Bowman, standing like a soldier beside her. Like their mother, he also held a second white trash bag in his opposite hand.

"Can I help you?" an officer finally asked, having stopped as she was passing in front of the three of them. She was an older woman, with some random gray hairs that contrasted against her regular black strands.

"Grace?" Kathleen whispered, looking to her daughter.

Grace swallowed, feeling like her throat was swollen shut. She felt her mother squeeze her hand and a beat later, she felt Tom do the same. "Y-yes," she coughed. It suddenly seemed like the whole room was spinning and whirring, like bad special effects in a low budget science-fiction movie. But Grace mentally pushed past the fear induced paralysis and forced her jaws to unhinge, making room for the words trapped at the back of her mouth. "I'm here to report a rape."


	4. Goodbye, Grace Bowman

**A/N: **The "study" mentioned in this chapter is real.

_**Turning Tables**_

**Goodbye, Grace Bowman**

Grace kept glancing at the video camera that was staring down on her from the corner of the room. She loathed being the victim, but feeling like she was some kind of suspect in an interrogation room.

"And when did the attack happen?" asked Officer Decker, the first officer who had spoken to Grace when she had come into the precinct.

"March eighth."

"Of this year?"

"Of course!"

The officer made a notation on a paper in front of her. "It's now May fourteenth. Miss Bowman, why did you wait so long to report the assault?"

"I was scared."

Kathleen heartily nodded. "She told me she was sick that entire week. She seemed so. You can check with the school, I had her out every day."

"Please, Mrs. Bowman," Officer Decker said. "We need to hear Grace's side of the story."

"And I'm trying to tell you, but you don't seem to be taking me very seriously. I told you: _Grant Volberg raped me._ He tricked me into getting into my house and when I was trying to help dress the wound to his hand, he suddenly cupped my mouth and kept insisting that my current boyfriend was no good for me and that I should get back together with him."

"So you're saying that he restrained you with a wounded hand?"

"It's not impossible, if that's what you're implying."

"I'm just trying to get all the facts."

"Then yes: he restrained me despite the injury to his hand. I was terrified and I had no idea what he planned to do. The reason I broke up with him in the first place was because of his anger and jealousy. I thought he was going to hurt me…so I tried to reason with him."

The officer raised her eyebrow. "How so?"

"I tried to appease him by telling him that he was right, that I shouldn't be with Jason."

"And what did he do?"

"He asked me if I agreed to be his girlfriend again...so I lied. I said I would, but he said he wanted more than just my word." Grace turned her head away from the officer as she felt her eyes growing hot and her vision blurring up again. "He said – he said he wanted to 'make love' to me as 'proof' of my devotion to him. I said that we weren't married, but he said it didn't matter as long as we planned to get married in the future." She stared down at the table and lifted her hand to wipe her running nose and wet cheeks. "And that's when he _dragged_ me – kicking and screaming – into my room a – a – and he did it." She looked up, her face contorted into an almost demonic scowl. "'I promise to be gentle with you,' that's what he told me. Well, you can look inside the bags I brought you to see what happened."

The officer studied Grace a while, intermittently making notes from Grace's oral report. "All right, Miss Bowman. I'm going to need you to fill out a written statement with as much detail as possible describing the attack."

"I expected as much."

"I also have to ask: where have you been the past two plus months?"

Grace chewed her lip. "San Francisco."

"Why?"

"To hide."

"From Mr. Volberg?"

"Who else would I need to hide from?"

"Why didn't you report the attack immediately?"

"I think you already asked that: I was scared of what he might do to me. That he might rape me again. Or worse."

"So you took off without telling your mother or friends?"

"Yes."

"Why San Francisco?"

"Because…because there was a support group there, for women who have been victims of sexual assault."

Officer Decker nodded. "I'm going to need the names of the members in this group."

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"It's anonymous."

"Miss Bowman-"

"It's just the same as any other kind of anonymous support group, _Officer_. It's by invitation only and I'm not going to compromise their trust or safety."

"All right," she responded, her voice hardened. "Then please answer me this: why did you come back now? Why are you reporting the assault _now_, at such a late date?"

"Why now?" Grace snarled. She stood up and slammed her palms against the edge of the table, using it as a support with which to lean against and deadlock her eyes with the officer's. "Because I was a virgin before I was raped and now I'm a teen statistic: I'm pregnant with my rapist's baby!"

The pen Officer Decker was holding slipped between her fingers, rolled off the edge of the table, and landed with a plastic clatter against the waxed floor. "You're saying you're pregnant with Mr. Volberg's baby?"

"Are you deaf?"

Kathleen touched her daughter's shoulder. "Grace," she cautioned.

"I'm going to have to ask you to please sit back in your seat," the officer replied as she stood from her own. She waited until Grace complied, though only after some coaxing from Kathleen. She quickly retrieved her pen from the ground and paper from the table. "I'll have someone bring you the paperwork we need you to fill out and I will be back shortly." She paused in the doorway. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Grace continued scowling. "Yeah, there is one thing."

"Yes?"

"Justice."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

The bell above the door jangled and Ben followed the sound out to the counter where he was surprised to see his ex-girlfriend waiting for him. "Amy, what are you doing here?"

Strands of hair were stuck to the sides of her face, her cheeks were brought, she was coughing intermittently, and she looked as though she just might have run all the way across town. "H – h –" she coughed, her breath coming out in gasping pops "–have you seen the – the news?"

"The news doesn't even come on for another few hours," he replied confusedly. Ben quickly pulled open the gate behind the counter and ushered her back. He took her hand and led her down to the break room where he grabbed her a bottled water from the fridge and twisted off the cap. "Here: drink and catch your breath." He pulled out a chair for Amy and proceeded to sit down after she had. "What's on the news that's so urgent?"

Amy gulped down half the frosty Aquafina before wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and pushing the bottle aside. "My dad called Ashley and I this morning. It was supposed to be our weekend with him, but he cancelled. I figured he was just being his regular old flakey self again…but then I was watching the TV after I got home from school and I saw a commercial for this evening's news." She pressed her hand to her chest to catch her breath.

Ben leaned closer to her. "Does this have to do with-"

"Grace." Amy nodded eagerly. "Theyshowedapictureofher," she said, the words rushing out in a single breath as if they were one. "And something about 'local missing girl found' as their headline! Is it true? Has she contacted you? Has she contacted-"

"Adrian – nor I – have heard from her. Although…"

Amy looked at him expectantly.

"Although she did send Mercy a birthday gift."

"What?"

"A scrapbook. We took it to Mrs. Bowman and she took it to the police. But there haven't been any leads that we know of. Nobody's said any more to us than that."

Amy sat upright in her chair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-" Ben opened and closed his mouth. "I didn't know you ca – would, uh, I…"

"You didn't think I'd care?" Amy stood up and away from him like an animal that he'd just struck. "I thought you knew me better than that, Ben? Grace and I may not have been best friends and I may be mad at my dad for being with her mom, but that doesn't mean I'm a heartless bitch."

"I _never_ said that!"

"Well why didn't you tell me? My god, I took the bus all the way down here and ran three blocks to tell you in person!"

Ben flinched. "I'm sorry." He stood up too. "There's nothing I can say other than I am genuinely, truly sorry."

"How long have you been sitting on this?"

"Since the night of Mercy's party. We took the information to Kathleen the next morning. There was hardly anything to go on, Amy: just Grace's handwriting and a stamp from the postal service indicating it had been mailed in San Francisco."

"Three days," Amy replied, her head shaking. "It makes sense. I've barely heard from my dad at all since the party. He must know what's going on."

"He knew about the package."

"I guess I'll be stopping by his apartment then, won't I?"

Ben reached out to touch her shoulder, only for Amy to shrug him away. "Let me go with you."

"You're working," she said bluntly. "Besides, I think-"

"I want to go with you," he insisted. "My dad would understand."

"Wouldn't you rather go with Adrian?"

Ben shook his head. "That's just it: I don't want to say anything to her until I know whether or not this is true. She's already beating herself up over Grace enough as it is and I don't want to get her hopes up if this is one of those misleading news headlines."

"She doesn't watch the news, I take it?"

"She reads more than she watches television."

"Oh."

Ben grabbed another cold water for himself from the fridge. "Why don't you go wait for me out front? I'm going to let Bunny know I'm leaving early and then I'll call my driver."

Amy sighed, not completely satisfied with Ben's proposal, but she nodded nevertheless. "Fine."

"Thank you." He watched her grab her bottle and leave the break room. He slugged down his own water and felt the insides of his chest growing cold as it snaked its way down to his stomach. Ben realized his hand was shaking and he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard was real: had his and Adrian's lead helped to locate Grace? It seemed impossible. Had Grace come back to town on her own? He tossed his empty water bottle into the recycle bin as he headed off to Bunny's office, his head pulsating with questions.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

A persistent ring emanated from Adrian's purse. She dropped it into a cement corner and fished around for her phone. "Hello?"

"Adrian, where are you?" Cindy's voice demanded. "You should've been here over an hour ago!"

"I know," Adrian replied emotionlessly. "I just needed some time."

"For what? I know I told you that I have plans this evening."

"I'll be home in time."

"Why didn't you call me?"

Adrian scowled. "I was busy, okay?" She gripped the sides of her cell phone in frustration. "I'll be home shortly!" She turned off her phone and threw it haphazardly back into her purse. With the distraction out of the way, the Latina returned her attention to the skyline in front of her. It was the skyline she remembered staring at the night she'd lost her virginity to Antonio.

She sighed and sank to her knees in front of the ledge. The summer program and scholarship papers were sitting by her knees. The last time she'd visited the rooftop had been nearly a year-and-a-half ago, in October 2008. Adrian had felt just as frustrated then as she did now and then, as now, she didn't have anyone to talk to about it. The confliction she was feeling needed to be eased away with a best friend, not a boyfriend, not the father of her child, and the only two best friends she'd ever had were both _gone_.

A part of her felt somewhat guilty, like it was sacrilege, to come back to a place so sacred to her and her first love and childhood best friend when she was now in a committed relationship with the father of her daughter. On the other hand, she felt she didn't have any other choices left, and at the end of the day, Antonio had always been a notoriously good listener. She held up her folder.

"Do I even have to ask what you'd tell me to do?" she asked against the afternoon breeze. "Probably exactly what my mother and Ben want me to do. Thinking back, you always did side with my mother, didn't you?" She laughed and sniffled at the same time. "I guess things just sounded better coming from your mouth, especially when you were holding my hand when you said them." She wrapped one arm around her stomach and tried to imagine Antonio sitting beside her; his arm there, instead of hers. "I wish you could meet her, Antonio. I think Mercy would like you." She tapped one of her manicured nails against the folder. "Answer me this: why is it that summer always comes along and messes with my life?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky laid awoke on top of his head with his pillow over his face. His eyes snapped open against the pillowcase when he heard a knock from his door and he lifted the pillow just enough to reveal his mouth. "Who is it?"

"Company!"

Ricky rolled his eyes at the sound of Heather's voice. "Come in." He heard the door open and then footsteps that stopped beside his bed. He waited and sure enough he felt his pillow being pulled up from his face. He didn't resist and once it was up he saw Heather's face smiling down at him. "Hi."

"Yo Misery," she said, shoving him over so she could flop down beside him on his bed. "You're a miserable host." She tossed his pillow over his side of the bed.

Ricky cracked a small smile. "It's in the job description."

Heather laughed and ribbed him. "So what gives?" she asked. "Why weren't you at school today?"

"I didn't feel good."

"Playing hooky?"

"Not exactly."

Heather rolled over and propped her head up against her hand. She studied his face and frowned. "You've been upset."

"How do you –"

"Your eyes are all bloodshot," she said bluntly. "And your eyelashes are matted."

Ricky turned his head away, suddenly feeling too exposed and vulnerable. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough," Heather shrugged. She leaned forward and rested her pointed chin in the curve of his side just above his hip. "But I'm not leaving."

"I didn't expect you would," he sighed.

"Can I guess?"

"No."

"I see." The redhead rested her hand on his hip and began to strum her fingers. "Well, I'm going to sit in here and turn on your television until you have something better to do." She sat up and grabbed his remote control from the night stand. "Don't even fight me about it either because I'm bored as fuck and I'm feeling way crampy today so for that reason alone I _will_ win should you choose to take me on."

"So noted." Ricky rolled over and grabbed his pillow from the floor. He pressed it back to his face and remained silent as he felt Heather wriggling around beside him, making herself comfortable and him not so. Then he heard her clicking the buttons on the remote before finally settling on what he identified as the sounds of _16 & Pregnant_. He wasn't so sure she should be watching it, but then he realized that maybe he was as much the company to her misery as she was to his.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"They're treating you as if you're the one responsible for this!" Kathleen shouted. They were once again at home, in the familiarity of the kitchen.

Grace nodded. "It's expected. I heard enough people in group tell me about their experiences after they reported their rapes. I should've been ready for it, but somehow I wasn't."

"How can anyone possibly be ready for something like this?"

Grace stared down at the table top. "You're right," she sighed. "You can't."

The microwave beeped and Kathleen quickly pulled out a bowl of broccoli with melted cheddar cheese. She grabbed two forks and carried the hot ceramic dish over to the table with an oven mitt. She handed one fork to her daughter, but as Grace began to stab at and chew the yellow covered greens, Kathleen just stared at her.

When it finally occurred to Grace that her mother wasn't eating, she lifted her head and stared back. "What?"

"I just…" Kathleen reached out her hand, touching Grace's shoulder. She moved her hand up to the short curls around her daughter's shoulders. "I wasn't prepared for this. Of all the things I thought had happened to you…" Her eyes glistened in the fluorescent lights. "You look so different."

"I am different." Grace set her fork into the bowl and touched her mother's fingers.

"Why did you cut your hair? You used to love it long. I remember," she smiled fondly, "you used to cry every time I'd take you to the hairdresser's to get it trimmed. You thought they were going to make you go bald."

Grace twisted the ends of her hair. Her left eye twitched and head jerked very lightly.

"Gracie?"

_Grant's fingers raked through her hair. "You're so beautiful, Grace!"_

"_Stop. Stop, please stop!"_

_Grant grabbed a handful of Grace's hair, holding her head still. "I love you, Grace. Tell me you love me too."_

Grace pushed her mother's hand away. "Did you know that in a study on rapists, the majority of those interviewed said that they will go after a woman with long hair or a ponytail or a bun over someone with short hair? It's easier to grab onto and use as a weapon of control."

Kathleen's hand dropped into her lap. "I didn't know."

Grace lifted her shoulders up and down. "Now you do."

Kathleen swallowed uneasily. "It looks – nice."

Grace swallowed. "When I got it cut, I was thinking of you. I – I tried to get them to trim it like yours. Which is kind of ironic now, since I see that yours has grown out since I last saw you."

Kathleen unconsciously touched her hair. "Yeah, I guess I've been too focused on everything else to think about getting it trimmed lately."

Grace nodded. "I donated mine," she said. "They'll make a wig out of it for someone with cancer. I figured that at least one good thing could come out of everything that's happened."

"Speaking of everything that's happened…" Kathleen's eyes moved to Grace's abdomen.

The teenager touched her stomach. "I don't want to talk about that right now."

Kathleen nodded. "When you're ready."

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready." Grace pushed the bowl of cheese and broccoli over to her mother. "I'm not that hungry anymore," she said. She stood up and moved to the door and peeked behind the curtain. "I need to go out."

"Out?" Kathleen leaned forward as though to stand up, then shifted uneasily in her chair. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No, but I need to see someone."

"I don't think you should go alone."

"I can't keep letting him rule my life, Mom. The Grace that got raped and ran away from her life is gone. I've bid my farewell to her. _I'm_ here now and I need to go make amends."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"What are you two doing here?" George asked, stopping abruptly when he entered his apartment to find Ben and Amy sitting on his couch.

"Waiting to talk to you," Amy said, holding up her key to his apartment.

"About?"

"Grace," Ben said, cutting to the chase.

"You know something, don't you?"

George shrank back. "I don't know anymore than you."

"You were a better liar when you were cheating on Mom," Amy shot back.

"Please, Mr. Juergens. Amy said they're airing a story on the news tonight about Grace being found. You have to tell us what you know. Is she back?"

George pulled out a chair at his circular dinner table and dropped into it. He looked exhausted and gray and small. "She's back," he nodded. "But I can't tell you anymore than that. It's not my place."

"Dad, come on!"

George shook his head. "No." He stood. "It's not my place. If you want to know what happened, you'll have to talk to Grace. I don't even know the whole story, I haven't seen her myself. And frankly, right now would not be a good time."

"Why not?"

George ignored her and picked up his phone.

"Who are you calling?"

"Anne, hi, it's –" he winced "–I have Amy over here right now and I wanted to know if you were home so I can come drop her off."

"Dad!"

George held up her hand. "That'd be great. Bye." He pointed at the clock. "Your mom says she just got off and she's on her way over here."

Amy shook her head. "She never gets off this early."

George looked to Ben. "Do I need to call your father too?"

"No," Ben sighed. "My driver's still out front." He looked pitifully at Amy. "I should go."

Amy threw her hands into the air and walked out. A moment later the sound of the bathroom door slammed.

Ben bowed his head. "I'll see you later, Mr. Juergens." With each step towards the door, he felt nausea taking hold of him. He was already late meeting Adrian and he wasn't sure what he was going to tell her when he got there.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

As much as she had been dreading her talk with Ben, Adrian was beginning to grow worried that he hadn't shown up yet, nor texted or called to tell her he'd be working overtime as usual. She sat at the kitchen table with her laptop on and her textbook open at her side, but her word document only had her name, date, and class information so far because she couldn't seem to concentrate. Her eyes kept drifting to the time on the corner of her screen and then to Mercy, who was playing in her playpen. She was about ready to pick up the phone and call the butcher shop when she heard a knock at the door.

Adrian bounced up from her chair and bolted for the door, silently thanking the universe that Ben was finally there. "Took you long enough!" she yelled as she unlocked the top lock, followed by the bottom lock, and then twisted the door handle. "You were really beginning to worry me th –" She stopped abruptly, staring at the face in front of her. It was decidedly _not_ Ben's. For a moment, she even thought she was hallucinating. Or dreaming. "G-Grace?"

"I know you probably hate me by now, but _please_…hear me out."


	5. Which Way Did They Go?

**A/N: **I was having a bit of a stalemate with my muse on this chapter so I was focusing on my Radrian fic and some other things I've had shelved in my Documents folder for a while. It provided a good distraction so that when I did come back to this, I could get back on track. Thanks for your patience and I apologize for the wait!

_**Turning Tables**_

**Which Way Did They Go?**

"Look, I've already been through this with my mother, my brother,_ and_ the police. I don't know if I can do it again in less than twenty-four hours." Grace shuffled her feet but didn't move. She'd stepped inside and was still standing beside the door as though she might make a run for it at any moment.

"Go through what? Grace, what happened to you and where have been? You can't just show up at my door after two months and say: 'Hi, hear me out!' and then not tell me anything!"

Grace dipped her hand into her purse and retrieved a thick envelope. "I know. So, here." She avoided Adrian's eyes. "I wrote a letter to you each day that I was gone. I never knew if you'd actually ever read them or not, but it made me feel better somehow."

Adrian gingerly accepted the oversized envelope and seemed at a loss for what to do. "Do you – I mean…am I supposed to wait until you leave to, uh –"

"Whatever you want to do. If you want me to leave –"

"No!" Adrian grabbed for the blonde's shoulder. "I mean – no. Definitely not." She sniffed. "I…do you want anything? Anything to eat or drink or –"

"Maybe some water," Grace interjected. Then nodded with more confidence. "Yes, water. Water would be nice. Ice cold, if you have any."

"Yeah, sure. Of course," Adrian said, darting awkwardly for the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Grace examined the condo. It still looked the same as she remembered it, except for the child in the playpen. Her heart swelled as she saw Mercy smiling at her. Trancelike, she moved towards the playpen. "Hi, Mercy…do you remember me?"

Mercy cooed and held up her arms. _"¡Ta!" _she squealed. _"¡Ta!"_

Grace chanced a glance in Adrian's direction. "Uhm…"

"She means '_hasta_,'" the Latina clarified. _"Up."_

"Oh." Grace peeled off her jacket and draped it over the side of the couch along with her purse and then bent over to pick the little girl out of the playpen. "Hi there," she said softly. "I missed you."

Mercy patted Grace's nose and then began to grab for the curls around her shoulders.

Adrian filled a glass with ice and water and looked up to make sure Grace was busy and used a pair of scissors to cut open the top of the envelope. Inside, she found several smaller envelopes, tied together with a pink ribbon. She tugged one out of the ribbon and tucked it under her arm with the big envelope itself as she made her way back over to Grace. "Here."

"Thank you."

Adrian slid onto the cushion at the far end of the couch and watched her daughter and best friend for a while, not sure what to say or where to begin. It was obvious Grace was avoiding her, so she set the big envelope down and pulled the first letter out of the small one.

A confusing panic and relief rivaled in Grace's chest as she watched her friend begin her letter. Relief, because she was finally telling her best friend the truth, and panic, because Adrian was the first person outside of her family and the authorities that she'd come clean to since she got back home. She focused her attention on Mercy instead, because she was afraid to see Adrian's reactions as she read the letter.

Grace switched the little girl to her other hip. Her arms were all too quickly tiring and she was fast realizing how heavy the child had gotten since she'd last seen her. She wondered how Adrian toted her around all the time. Then, as she stared at the little girl's pudgy cheeks and busy hands, she suddenly began to imagine a child in her arms, not resembling Adrian, but instead resembling herself. Being _Auntie Grace_ was one thing, but being _Mommy_ – in high school – was something that had never even been conceivable to her.

Mercy reached for Grace's earlobe and tugged at it.

Grace yelped and quickly reached for the child's fingers to ply them away. "No, no," she mumbled. "You can't pull on people's ears." She tapped Mercy's nose playfully. "That's not very nice." Behind her, she heard Adrian make a noise that sounded like the offspring of a gasp and a sob. She resisted the urge to turn and see her friend's face. She began to bounce Mercy lightly on her hip. "What else can you say? Can you say 'Auntie Grace'?"

"_¡Mamá!"_

Grace felt her stomach flip-flop. "I'm not your mama," she smiled. "I'm not anyone's mama." _Not yet._ She ran her fingers over the little girl's velvety black hair. From behind her, she suddenly felt Adrian's arms envelope her and she closed her eyes, wanting to break into tears at a moment's notice. She_ hated_ that feeling.

"I'm so sorry," Adrian whispered. Her tears were evident in her voice. "I'm so, so sorry…if I'd known-"

"You couldn't have done anything. _I_ couldn't do anything. It already happened."

"I wish you could've told me. You know that I-"

"It wasn't just you. I couldn't tell anyone. I could barely look at myself in the mirror and recognize the fact that it had happened." She felt Adrian's tears hit her bare neck.

"I want to kill him."

Grace nodded. "I went to the police this morning."

"Have they arrested him?"

"I don't know what they're doing. I didn't get a very good feeling."

"What?"

Grace set Mercy back into the playpen and turned to her friend. "I waited so long to report it…I don't know how that's going to affect things. Plus – plus they got his side of the story first: he says we had consensual sex."

"He's a liar! How can anyone not realize that?"

"Doesn't matter. The victim is always under scrutiny, not the attacker. And…it looks even worse now."

"Because you waited?"

"Because I waited…and because I'm – I'm carrying his child."

Adrian went snow white. "You're not," she said, shaking her head. "You can't be!"

Grace wrapped her arm around her belly. "I've missed my period twice already and the test was positive." Her lips protruded and she felt overwhelmed again. It was amazing how she could go from hard edged anger to a puddle in a matter of minutes. "And they're going to think I'm charging him with rape now because I'm pregnant."

Adrian swarmed Grace in a hug and refused to let her go. She directed all the loathing she felt for Grant and all the frustration she felt over her own life into the hug: her only thoughts in those precious moments were of her best friend. Everything else could wait, because Grace needed her and she needed Grace.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ben pushed open the back door of the limo in the parking lot outside of Adrian's condo. As the door clicked behind him he began to head towards the complex and stopped short when he saw a dirty Prius parked in one of the front guest spots. He did a double take and then shook his head. But as he neared the vehicle he stopped by the driver's side window and leaned in, peering inside. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but as he tilted his head to the side, he noticed a photograph tucked onto the underside of the visor.

The teen tore off into a run until he was standing breathlessly at Adrian's front door. He held his hand to his chest as he caught his breath and then he lifted his hand, already curled into a fist, and rapped it against the wood. He waited. He could hear the scuffing of feet inside and impatiently knocked again.

The door creaked open and Adrian stuffed her head out. "Ben!" She wedged herself between him and the door, shutting it behind her. "It's not a good time right now. I know we have to talk, but I promise that now is not-"

"I know Grace is in there."

Adrian blanked. "What?"

"I saw her car in the parking lot. Don't lie to me, Adrian. I know she's in there; I know she's back in town."

Adrian grit her teeth. "Then you know exactly why I can't talk to you right now."

"How is she?"

Adrian turned her head away. "That's not for me to say."

"First George, now you…what the hell happened?"

"George? What does George have to do with anything?"

"I – I spoke to him before I came over here. Apparently he knew Grace was back."

"How did you find that out?"

"Amy came to work today."

"Amy?" Adrian shook her head and thrust her hand into Ben's face in frustration. "Never mind! Look, you just have to leave right now. I'll call you as soon as-"

"It's okay, Adrian. He can come in."

Adrian turned around to see Grace standing behind her in the doorframe. "You don't have to tell anyone anything."

Grace smiled dejectedly. "I appreciate that. But he's here now and he's one of my closest friends. He's going to find out eventually anyway."

Ben looked tentatively to his girlfriend until she finally stepped aside to allow him entrance into the condo. He stepped onto the threshold and immediately hugged Grace. "I don't care where you've been or why," he whispered. "I'm just glad that you're back now, Grace."

Grace wound her arms around Ben's back and soaked in the circles Ben was rubbing into her back. "Thank you, Ben."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky's nose twitched. "When was the last time you took out the trash?"

"When I dumped my no good ex?"

Something about the statement rubbed Ricky wrong but he couldn't press the pad of his finger over it. Since he'd known her, Heather had never had a boyfriend. Of course, the entire time he'd known her, she'd also been pregnant. He could count on one hand how many times Heather had ever mentioned the guy who'd gotten her pregnant and then ended things as soon as she'd told him about the baby. He'd always assumed it a sore subject, much like his own relationship – or lack thereof – with Adrian, so he'd never felt right to ask further. As much as it rubbed him, he decided to stay the course of his original question: "This place reeks of curdled milk. How can you stand it?"

Heather kicked off her sneakers one at a time, first stepping on the back of one shoe and pulling her foot out and then using her heel to hold down the back of the other shoe so she didn't have to untie either of them. She abandoned the footwear in the middle of what served as her living room. "This whole place smells foul, not just my apartment." She shrugged nonchalantly. "You get used to it."

Ricky pulled the collar of his shirt up over his nose and jogged towards the bathroom. "Well if you're not going to do anything about it, I am."

Heather followed him with a cheeky grin. "My hero!" she sang sarcastically.

The drummer rolled his eyes as he peeled the trash bag out of the bathroom waste basket. To his surprise, it was overflowing. He grabbed some toilet paper off the roll and used it to pick up the fallen wads of tissue, cotton balls, and q-tips that had fallen off the top and pushed them back into the bag. As he stood up, he noticed that the bathroom was unusually dirty. Certainly not as disgusting as it had been when he'd gotten everyone together to help come clean out the apartment shortly after meeting Heather, but still, it was bad, and worse, it wasn't like Heather. He tied up the bag and carried it back into the hallway, pausing to hear Heather in her bedroom. He turned and headed to the kitchen where he found that trashcan also at its max, so much so that he couldn't even fit the bulging bathroom bag inside the bigger trash bag.

"You're seriously taking out my trash?" Heather asked, popping back into the living room. She folded her arms amusedly.

"This is disgusting." Ricky wrangled the bag out of the can and began to shake it to get more of the trash to fall to the bottom so he could tie off the top. "Are you sick or something? Is your nose congested? Because I'd go out of my mind if I had to smell this day in and day out."

"Don't be a spoiled sport."

"I wouldn't be spoiled if you didn't have spoiled milk lying around." Suddenly he stopped and stared into the trash. Cringing, he reached in and pulled a can out. "And what the hell is this?"

The playful banter had drained from both Ricky's words and his eyes. Heather's posture stiffened to match him. "Trash, what does it look like?"

Ricky tossed the can across the floor and it rolled across the tile until it hit Heather's feet and rolled to a stop._ "Beer."_

"So?"

"So what is it doing in _your _trash?"

"I don't think that's really any of your business," she snapped.

"You're sixteen!"

"_Seventeen_, as of the beginning of the month! And you're not my father!"

Ricky curled his fist and smashed it against the counter. "So it is yours then? You've been drinking?"

"All teenagers do it."

"I don't. Adrian doesn't. Ashley doesn't. Ben-"

"Oh, shut up! So you have a tiny circle of friends who don't! That's probably less than one percent of the teenage population in American high schools!"

"And have you forgotten why I don't?" Ricky bit back. "Her name's Nora! I've introduced you to her at Christmas or have you already forgotten? Tall, brunette, looks a decade older than she is because she's a recovering addict and alcoholic!"

"Not everyone who drinks becomes an alcoholic!"

"But your chances of it become a hell of a lot greater when you're depressed!"

Heather scowled. "Who said I'm depressed?"

Ricky realized he could feel the heat radiating from his face and neck. He hadn't realized had furious the idea of Heather drinking had actually made him. He could even feel the veins quivering just beneath his skin. He tried to take a deep breath and calm himself down. "Misery loves company," he said flatly. "And I guess when you have none, _that_ –" he said, pointing to the can "–is what you love instead."

"I don't love beer and I'm not depressed. I just have one every now and then."

"And if I dump out this bag right here on the floor, how many more of those am I going to find?"

Heather pressed her hands to her hips. "I think you should leave now."

"I thought so."

Heather scowled. "I'm _not_ depressed."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Ricky felt his anger waning towards sympathy. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm your friend, I should've noticed sooner. First you give up your daughter–"

"I didn't 'give up my daughter,' I gave up _a baby_. She has a mom. And a dad. I was – and never will be – her 'mom.'"

" –and then you find out you're going to summer school," Ricky continued as if she hadn't interrupted. "And finally Grace disappears. I guess I should've started suspecting something whenever Ash and I would ask about coming over here and you started suggesting we go to her house or mine instead. I guess you didn't want us to see how you've been letting things go."

"You're completely exaggerating everything! Just – just get out!"

"I'll beg to differ."

"Get out before I call the cops."

"On what phone?"

"Oh? Really, Ricky? You're going to throw how poor I am into my face? What kind of friend are you, anyway?"

"One who cares about your well being."

"Get. Out."

"No."

Suddenly Heather rushed at him, punching him in the chest and digging her nails into his arm. "I said get the fuck out!"

Ricky winced under the assault. After years of living under Bob Underwood's roof, it was nothing, but even so, the violence itself was so uncharacteristic for the Heather he knew that it made him realize it might be a good idea to leave for a while, if only to let Heather cool down. On the other hand, leaving might spur her into the more drinking. He quickly grabbed Heather around her upper body, holding her arms to her sides using one arm wrapped around her, pressing her to his chest.

In a blind rage, Heather bent her elbows and brought her hands to his exposed arm, digging her nails wildly into his flesh.

Ricky dragged Heather a few feet over to the refrigerator and opened it. There was hardly much of anything inside, as usual, especially since Grace had been missing, but what he did see at the bottle were two cans remaining from a six pack. He grabbed the circular plastic packaging by one of the rings and used it to haul the two cans that were still attached out and he threw them as hard as he could to the tile floor. The force of the blow caused both cans to spring leaks and golden fizz and foam began to hiss from the metal. Suddenly Ricky felt Heather bite down on his arm and he finally released her, but was careful not to show just how much the wound hurt. He'd learned a long time ago that showing weakness in situations like this was not an option.

"I'll leave," he said slowly, backing out of the kitchen and towards the door. "But don't think for a second that this is over." Ricky paused at the door, his heart welling at his mess of a friend. He couldn't help but feel guilty for having not having pieced together the little peculiarities sooner. All he could do was hope that he'd found out in time to stop any permanent damage; the kind of damage that people like his birth mother could never bounce back from.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

In the wee hours of Saturday morning, Adrian awoke on her bed to the sound of silence. She sat up and ran her fingers through her mussed hair. Beside her, Grace was still asleep, though from the looks of it, not exactly _peacefully_. Still, she figured – or at least hoped – it had been a better sleep than she'd gotten in weeks, probably months.

The night prior, Ben had agreed to take Mercy home with him so that Grace could stay the night with Adrian. The latter, however, had insisted that she call her mother, to which Grace hadn't protested. Adrian made a lasagna and they'd spent the rest of the night and early into the morning eating, talking, hugging, and crying. It could have been any night between friends, were it not for the tears thanks to the black cloud that was looming over them.

Adrian wormed out of her covers and slipped down the hallway to the living room. The envelope with the letters that Grace had written her was still sitting on the cushion. She'd only ever had a chance to read the first one, but with Grace still asleep and her unable to fall back into slumber, she sat down on the cold cushion, pulled her knees up to her chest, and pulled out the second envelope from the pink ribbon.

Hours later several more letters were covering the cushion beside her, but Adrian was still reading. The sun had started to shine through the glass slider, casting all too happy rays across the floor and the furniture. But even as inappropriately cheerful as it seemed, she had to admit, the warmth felt good against the back of her head and neck.

"Which one are you up to?"

Adrian jumped at the sound of her friend's voice. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and saw Grace standing just out of the hallway. "It's the one where you're talking about how you think you need to go buy an EPT."

Grace rounded the couch, collected the envelopes and set them onto the coffee table, and sat down beside her friend. "Oh."

Adrian cast her eyes down. She quietly leaned over and set the letter on the table with the others and scooted closer to her friend. She touched Grace's knee. "If you need me to go with you, you know I will."

"With me where?"

Adrian swallowed uneasily. "To the free clinic."

Grace pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. "You know how I feel about that."

Adrian was taken aback. "He raped you."

"I know: I was there."

"If you think having his baby is going to help prove that he –"

"I _don't_."

"Then why? Why would you go through with this pregnancy? More importantly, how?" Adrian stared at her best friend. Her voice had gone up, but she wasn't trying to be mean or even mad. Not mad at Grace, even though she wanted nothing more than to kill Grant. But what she was feeling at that moment was genuine bewilderment: "_How_ can you have your _rapist's baby_?"

"Because it's _my baby_ too. And more importantly: two wrongs don't make a right. I loathe Grant for what he did to me and I want to see him punished more than anyone! But what did this baby ever do to anyone? What did this baby ever do to me? There is no way I can justify murdering this child. He or she is as innocent in all this as I am."


	6. They Went That A'way

**A/N: **Is it just me or is it a bazillion degrees everywhere? Throughout the entire time I was trying to type this chapter, my fingers kept slipping off the keyboard. I'm surprised I'm not a puddle yet! Anyway, I finally got it finished. Happy last day of July!

_**Turning Tables**_

**They Went That A'way**

"With the exception of spring break, you do realize that you have been considered truant since your first missed class on March seventeenth, don't you, Grace?"

Grace sat beside her mother in Mr. Molina's office. The weekend had passed paradoxically: all too quickly and all too slowly at the same time. It was the first time she'd set foot in Grant High School since March sixteenth and inside, everything was vibrating. She wasn't sure how she looked on the outside, except for the few times she caught her hands shaking as she gripped the arms of the chair opposite her school counselor. "I understand."

"Now normally in cases like this, we would force the student to repeat the grade, but in your situation, you passed with excellent marks your first semester and had equally admirable grades right up until March. Given the circumstances – as well as the impending charges in the police investigation – the school is willing to allow you to attend summer school instead. _If_ you can raise your grades to passing levels during summer school, we can allow you to move onto your junior year. If not, we will be forced to hold you back."

The blonde nodded. "I think that's more than fair." She felt nauseas at the thought of summer school though: it was embarrassing for one, but the thought of being held back was even more so. Secondly, she'd never been truant in her life, and the fact that she now had a truancy on her permanent record made her want to crawl under a rock.

"However," Mr. Molina continued calmly, "this also means that you won't be able to attend the Young Healers program again this summer. I regret to say that due to the truancy and the drop in your GPA, it's highly likely that you won't be invited back to the program at a later date either."

Grace tried to swallow but couldn't manage it. Bile hissed at the back of her throat. Even if she could still go to the Young Healers program, she didn't think she'd be able to, not if Grant would also be there. And he _would_. Grace just nodded, accepting that part of her fate without question.

Kathleen reached across the seats to settle her hand on her daughter's arm. "We appreciate your help, Mr. Molina." She offered her other hand across the table and shook the counselor's. "And the school's decision," she added hastily.

Mr. Molina nodded. "Thank you for coming in." He stood and smiled sympathetically at Grace. "You're a very bright girl, Grace. Academically, I'm sure you will be able to bounce back during summer school."

Grace noted the fact that he'd felt the need to qualify her ability to _bounce back_. She sighed inwardly, exhausted. "Thank you, Mr. Molina." She shook his hand as well.

"And if you need anything in the future – either with your studies or even if you just need to talk – do not hesitate to come right to my office."

"I will."

"Have a good day, both of you."

"You too," Kathleen replied.

Grace, however, was already reaching for the door. Her stomach was doing all kinds of flip-flops. She knew as soon as she walked out the door, people would be looking. They had when she'd come in. And of course, it would be worse when her mother left. If there was a way for her to get through the entire day, she didn't see it.

"Are you okay?" Kathleen whispered, hugging her daughter's shoulders.

"No, but I don't really have a choice," Grace whispered back. She turned the door handle and stepped over the threshold. Outside, she saw that the hall was crowded and many people kept stealing glances towards the window of the counseling office even though the blinds had been drawn. Now, all the glances fell directly on her. Then she felt someone grab her hand.

"Morning."

"Morning," Grace replied, a little surprised to find Adrian standing outside the door.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk with you to your first class?" Kathleen asked warily.

"No, I think if anything, that would only make things worse." Grace leaned in to kiss her mother's cheek. "But thank you anyway."

"I'll take good care of her, Ms. Bowman."

"I'm sure you will," Kathleen agreed. "Thank you, Adrian."

"Always."

Grace stayed pressed against the closed door of Mr. Molina's office until her mother walked away. As soon as the latter was out of sight, she could hear the whispers begin even though she kept alternating between Adrian and the floor or any other inanimate objects she could find to look at.

"What are you looking at?" Adrian snarled. Without letting go of Grace's hand, she swung her other arm out and swatted her purse – a particularly heavy black leather number – at the surrounding students until they averted their eyes. "Come on," she whispered.

The cruel words – theories, sneers, jibes – hit her ears but she tried to blur her mind so she wouldn't hear the specifics. She felt numb inside, like a horse being directed by a lead rope. It made her sick to hypothesize what they were saying now and she could only imagine what they would be saying later, when she began to show.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

There was a knock at the bathroom door and Ricky grunted. "I'm almost out!" he hollered. He wasn't sure why anyone was knocking anyway, they had three bathrooms – one had been added just a few years after he'd begun living with the Shakurs – specifically because the house had was a foster home and its very nature required bathroom availability. At present, it was just him and his parents, so everyone had their own, and as far as he knew, all of them were in working condition.

Currently, Ricky was standing in front of the sick with an open bottle of rubbing alcohol on the counter, his right arm bent in front of him, and an alcohol soaked cotton ball pinched between the index finger and thumb on his left hand that he was using to dab the bite mark on his arm. There were several crescent moon shaped marks and long around the area of the bite, running up and down his arm, but they were beginning to fade or scab depending on the severity. The bite, however, still looked pretty gnarly.

"I thought so."

Ricky jumped as the door opened – he hadn't locked it out of habit, having not expected to be bothered in the bathroom – and his mother's head popped in. "What are you doing?" he yelped, dropping the cotton ball into the sink and trying to hide his arm behind his back.

"Confirming my suspicions." Margaret pushed her way into the bathroom and shut the door behind herself. She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. "Let me see."

"See what?"

"You know what."

Ricky sighed and relinquished his arm. "It's nothing."

"It's a bite," Margaret replied. She reached for the ball of cotton balls, dabbed some rubbing alcohol onto it, and proceeded to continue where Ricky had left off. "And judging from the other wounds, those appear to be nails."

"How did you know?"

Margaret smirked. "I remember when you first came to live with us," she smiled. "Whenever you got hurt, you would try to hide it and take care of it yourself. I knew something was up as soon as I started noticing you wearing long sleeved shirts or sweat jackets after you came back from Heather's on Friday and throughout the weekend even though it's nearing the end of May and it's been quite hot lately."

"Oh." He made a mental note to change that habit in the future.

"So what happened?" she asked. Margaret looked closely at Ricky's face. "You don't have any black eyes or visible bruises, so I'm going to guess you didn't get into a brawl." She looked down and tossed the cotton ball into the trash, then she reached into the drawer and pulled out some triple antibiotic ointment. She began to apply it to the wound and then looked back up at her son. "You and Heather didn't…"

"Didn't what?"

"Have sex."

Ricky stared incredulously. "You think that's from _sex_?"

"I don't 'think,' I'm _asking_. As far as I know, you haven't been having indiscriminate sex for some time, but you have been friends with both Ashley and Heather for a while now and neither of them are seeing anyone, last I knew. And as I'm sure you know, there are certain fetishes out there."

"No! No, it's nothing like that!" Ricky shook his head disgustedly. "And I don't even think of Heather that way; never have!"

"All right," Margaret agreed. "Then what _did_ happen? And with _who?_"

Ricky's shoulders slumped. "It was Heather who bit me," he said finally. "But not like _that_. We got into a fight."

"And she _bit _you?"

"Yeah…"

"Why?"

Ricky hesitated. He'd been having an internal debate with himself all weekend about whether or not to tell somebody about Heather's drinking. "When I went to her place, it smelt horrible, like she hadn't taken the trash out in weeks. I was going to do it for her and I noticed she'd let the apartment go…and then I saw empty beer cans in her trash."

"She's drinking?"

"I don't know how much," Ricky replied quickly. "I know at least four cans were gone out of a six pack and I made sure she couldn't have the last two."

"This is serious, Ricky."

"I know."

"Why didn't you tell me immediately?"

"Because it's not like she's the first teenager to do this."

"You of all people should know the dangers of alcohol."

"Yeah, I know. But…" He faltered, knowing that his mother was right and he had no excuse. "I was afraid for her. She's already on unstable ground living alone in that shit hole because her parents refused to be there for her. I'm not even sure if it's legal for her to be renting that place at sixteen or if she pays off the landlord to let her do it. I didn't want her to get into anymore trouble."

"Ricky, she bit you. This is serious." Margaret pulled a large bandage from the band-aid box, peeled off the wrapping, and pressed it over the wound. "It's not as if she tried one can and got a little tipsy – not that I'm approving of that either – but this is _not_ Heather. Not the one I have come to know, anyway. Whatever is going on with her, it's imperative that she gets help."

"I think she's depressed," Ricky said finally. "After all she's been through, it makes sense. And I want her to get help, I just…I just don't want her to get into trouble and then it lands her in the system like what happened to me. That would only make things worse and then who knows what would happen to her or where she'd end up?"

Margaret closed the cap on the rubbing alcohol and set it beneath the sink. "I understand."

Ricky raised his eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you go to school and we'll discuss this again when you get home."

"You won't do anything until then, right?"

Margaret nodded. "We'll talk when you get home."

Ricky looked at his bandaged arm and sighed. "Thanks, Mom."

"Not a problem."

He looked at his watched and cursed under his breath. "I have to go!" he said, hurrying around his mother to get out of the bathroom. "I already slept through my alarm because I couldn't sleep last night…and today was supposed to be Grace's first day back!" Ricky cursed again as he flew down the hall, hoping he wouldn't get a ticket on his way to school.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Amy dropped her textbook onto the table beside Ben and scooted into the appropriate seat next to her lab partner. She looked expectantly at him and cleared her throat. "Uhm…I saw you and Adrian with, uh, Grace this morning."

Ben nodded calmly as he turned the pages in his own textbook. "Yeah. I'm not surprised, _everyone_ was looking at her today. Still is, I bet. I hate how chatty and nosy and gossipy this town is."

"Is she…okay?"

"I'm sure you've seen what the news was reporting over the weekend. And heard the rumors in the halls."

"And I'm sure you know that the news and the rumors aren't always trustworthy."

Ben sighed and turned to his friend. "Today is really hard for her. You can't even imagine what she's been through, Amy. And then the way her name is getting smeared through gossip and media outlets. It's disgusting!"

Amy fidgeted. "Is it true?"

"What?"

"Her and her ex-boyfriend…did he really–"

"_Yes._ And no matter what he or anyone else says, what he did to Grace was anything _but_ her choice."

"I put you in lab partners to work, not to gossip," Mrs. Doonan said as though she'd just magically appeared behind Ben and Amy. _"Get to work."_

Amy picked up her pencil and scribbled hers and Ben's names onto their assignment sheet. She waited until Mrs. Doonan had walked away and then she leaned over her textbook and write something in tiny print onto the margin of the page. She turned it towards Ben and pointed with her pink eraser: _Tell her I believe her. Is there anything I can do to help?_

Ben picked up his black gel pen and opened his textbook to the back cover. In the corner he wrote: _I'll let you know._

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Thanks for letting me eat lunch in your car today," Grace said before she bit into her turkey and Swiss sandwich. She chewed and swallowed methodically, then reached for a drink of her A.M. Mango Gatorade to wash it all down. "I don't think I could bear to eat in the cafeteria or out at the lunch tables with everyone staring and pointing and whispering at me."

"Not a problem. You deserve some privacy." Adrian retrieved a tall container from her lunch bag and began to twist it at the center until it disengaged into two separate pieces: the top half was clear round plastic with a semi-see through purple lid and a purple rim at the bottom and the bottom half was a smaller contain that was double layered with purple freezer gel in the middle. Inside the bottom half, it was full of milk.

Grace watched curiously as her friend set the milk filled container into the cup holder and twisted off the lid of the top half to reveal it was filled with Blueberry Morning and on the underside of the lid, there was a foldable plastic purple spoon. She watched Adrian dump the milk into the top contain and unfold the spoon. "That's nifty."

Adrian grinned. "I thought so too. My mom picked this up for Mercy when we started feeding her rice cereal. I can ask her where she got it if you're interested." She winked. "I think they have them in pink too."

Grace nodded as she took another bite of her sandwich. Mercy and rice cereal were reminders of things she didn't want to think about yet. "I have to go to summer school," she said when she had swallowed again.

Adrian nodded sympathetically. "I figured as much. I'm sorry."

The blonde zipped the remainder of her sandwich into her zip back and set it back into her pink lunch bag. "So I guess while I'm in summer school, you'll be in New York?"

"How did you know about that?"

"Ben told me."

Adrian sighed and tried to reign in the flash of anger she was feeling towards her boyfriend. "You're back."

"But I'm not going to let you use me as an excuse." Grace grabbed her Gatorade and swished it around in the bottle. "I'm tired of being used by people." She felt bad as soon as she'd said it because she knew the statement wasn't a fair comparison, but nevertheless, it was how she felt. "You earned that spot in the summer program and you earned that scholarship. You have to make use of them. And I have to own up to running away."

"That doesn't mean you have to do it alone."

"I won't. I have my mom, my brother, Ben, Ricky…and it's not like we won't have the conveniences of modern technology."

Adrian swirled her spoon in her cereal. "I want to go," she finally admitted. "I just have so many responsibilities here."

"You do have responsibilities, but you also take on responsibilities that were never yours to begin with. However, you have plenty of other people to share them with too. And when you share with even one other person, it cuts that responsibility in half. It's a really neat little trick if you think about it." She patted her right temple with her index finger.

Adrian rolled her eyes. "How do you always make things sound so easy?"

"How do _you_ always make things sound so complicated?" A knock came from the window and Grace flinched.

Adrian looked to her left to see Ricky peering in. Beside him, she saw Ben, and beside Ben, was Amy. She sighed and hit the button to roll down her window. "Yes?"

"Mind if we join you?" Ben smiled, holding up a brown paper sack lunch.

Adrian glanced in the rearview mirror and then at Grace. When the latter shrugged Adrian sighed in defeat. "I suppose if someone wants to move the car seat to the trunk and one of you doesn't mind being squished in the middle seat, then sure, what the hell?"

"Great!" Ben grinned, his hand already on the handle of the back door. He dropped his lunch inside and proceeded to unbuckle Mercy's car seat and haul it around to the back of the car.

Amy looked decidedly uncomfortable as she stared at the back seat. As Ben came back around she looked at him expectantly. "I can sit in the middle…I guess. Since I'm smallest."

Ben looked at Ricky and scratched the back of his neck. "No, that's okay. I'll sit in the middle."

Amy raised a quizzical brow. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine. No sweat." He climbed inside and pulled his arms and legs in close as Ricky and Amy got in on either side of him.

"And don't you_ dare_ get any food on my leather seats!" Adrian warned, glaring through the rearview mirror.

Ben reached into his sack lunch and produced a handful of napkins which he passed to Ricky and Amy. At Ricky's curious look, Ben shrugged. "After having Mercy in my life for a year, carrying extra napkins becomes a bit of a habit."

Grace turned in the front seat and looked behind at her sardine packed friends. "Where're Heather and Ashley?" The question was directed most prominently at Ricky.

"Ashley's home sick today. She had a fever last night," Amy replied as she opened a can of mandarin orange slices.

Ricky squirmed in his seat. "Heather…didn't show up today."

"You haven't heard from her?"

Ricky shook his head. Then, glancing at Amy, he suggested a little too quickly: "Maybe she's coming down with whatever Ash has?"

Adrian was still looking at Ricky via the rearview mirror. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but held her tongue. "Hm. Maybe I'll give her a call when I get home."

Grace angled her head, looking at her friend. "Or we could go over there after school."

"You…would want to?"

Grace nodded. "I – I haven't seen her yet and I feel bad…I just left her hanging after…everything. Not to mention, maybe we could talk…about things."

Adrian kept quiet. Although the news about Grace's return and her rape charges against Grant had hit the news and gossip mill over the weekend, the one thing that hadn't gotten out yet was the pregnancy. There were rumors, of course, which had been filtering since Grant had given a news reporter an interview in the aftermath of Grace's disappearance claiming that she'd agreed to have sex with him, but thus far, they remained only rumors. As far as she knew the only people aware of the pregnancy were herself, Ben, Kathleen, Tom, the police, and _possibly_ George. With Heather having had her daughter only a little more than three months ago, it made sense that Grace would want to take comfort in the only other two people she knew who could share their experiences with her.

The remainder of the lunch break passed uneventfully, filled with the sounds of chewing and the occasional odd bits of conversation. It was unnervingly quiet, however, with everyone fearful of saying anything that might unintentionally acknowledge the reason they were sitting in the parking lot in the first place: the elephant in the convertible. Finally Grace put the rest of her lunch away and turned around to look back between the seats. She smiled. "Thank you. All of you, for wasting your lunch to sit out here with me. God certainly blessed me with the right friends." She turned swiftly to Adrian. "I have to use the bathroom. Meet you there?"

"Absolutely." Adrian watched Grace as she climbed out of the convertible and jogged into the high school. She then glanced at the dashboard. "Time's just about up, so everyone is going to have to move it." She pulled her key out of the ignition and got out of the car, waiting until the three people in the back seat had gotten out too. She nodded towards Amy, kissed Ben, and then rounded the car and looped her finger into the belt loop of Ricky's jeans so he couldn't leave with Ben and Amy.

"Ad-"

"_Sh!" _When Ben and Amy had gone, she released his belt loop and crossed her arms accusingly. "Explain."

"Explain what?"

"What's up with Heather?"

"I told you-"

"A lie. _Please,_ Ricky. I know you better than that. Tell me the truth: why wasn't she with you today?"

"She's…we got into a fight."

Adrian narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Because I caught her doing something she shouldn't have been."

"What?"

Ricky pressed his hand to his forehead. "Drinking."

"What?" the Latina blurted out instinctively.

"Friday. I think she's way more messed up than any of us realized."

"I can't believe this! Is she getting any help?"

"Obviously not," Ricky said, peeling back the sleeve of his jacket to reveal his bandaged arm.

"She did that to you?" Adrian asked, staring at the nail marks around the bandage.

"She bit me."

"You're not serious!"

"Do I sound like I'm joking?"

"We have to do something."

Ricky nodded. "Yeah. I'm talking to my mom about it tonight."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Her being a social worker and everything?"

"I don't really have a choice," he admitted. "She caught me this morning and I had to tell her. Are you sure you two are swapping information or something?"

Adrian rolled her eyes. "Now's not really the appropriate time for jokes."

"All right, then here's something serious: make sure Grace doesn't go over there. I don't think the stress will be good for either of them."

Adrian rubbed her temples. "Yeah, I agree." She exhaled and fell against the passenger door of her car. "I'll see what I can do. But you know Grace…"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

After school Grace found herself on her knees in the girls' bathroom, emptying the contents of her frail stomach into the porcelain bin. She mentally counted everything that she'd consumed from her lunch a few hours earlier and swore it off for eternity. Her mind wandered back to the day that she'd first caught Adrian in the stall, doing exactly the same thing, and despite feeling quite intimidated, she had refused to leave her until she'd been sure that she was okay. Now, Grace desperately wished Adrian was there to make sure she was okay, and perhaps to hold her hair back, but the Latina was busy and Grace didn't want to give her anymore excuses.

The blonde used the top of the toilet paper container to pull herself back up and kicked the lever on the toilet with the sole of her shoe. As her vomit swirled down the hole in chunky rainbows, she unlocked the door and moved to the sink, splashing her face with cool water. She wished she had a piece of mint gum or a tic-tac to take the foul taste out of her mouth. Instead she cupped her hand under the water and shoved a handful into her mouth, swished, and spit. It was better, but not by much.

Grace leaned against the sink until she felt a little less woozy and then pushed out of the bathroom. As she was walking out she heard some footsteps and her heart stilled. She didn't turn around, but she counted to ten in her head, reminding herself that although she was in the school after hours, there were still teachers and other students around, so there was no need to panic.

"Grace? Is that you?"

Grace covered her mouth, feeling tears hovering at the backs of her eyes. She didn't want to turn around; she'd been avoiding this all weekend and she thought she'd been lucky today as well.

"Grace?"

The blonde felt a hand on her arm and turned slowly until she was looking into the eyes of her boyfriend. Or was it ex-boyfriend now, having been gone for so long? "Jason," she squeaked. "Hi."

Jason's arms moved up and down as though he wasn't sure if he should hug her or keep his distance. "Hi." When she didn't say anything else, he plowed forward: "I saw you a couple times today but you were always with someone. I – I didn't know if I should try to talk to you or wait until you were ready or…"

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you heard that I was back, but I just wasn't ready to see you."

"I understand."

Grace wrapped her arms around her stomach. "What are you doing here now?"

"Uh, football practice." Jason motioned to the clothes he was wearing. "Coach asked me to run in and get some extra jerseys, he left them in the locker room."

"Oh." Grace smacked her forehead with her palm. "Stupid me, if I'd just been paying attention…" She rolled her eyes.

"What about you?" he ventured.

"Waiting on Adrian. She wanted to go see Mr. Molina."

Jason nodded. "Oh."

"Yeah…"

Jason rubbed the toe of his shoe against the floor making a squeaking noise. "Well…when you're ready, I'll be looking forward to seeing you again."

Grace felt overcome with emotion again. She nodded because she knew that if she were to say anything, it would come out in a rush of tears and she wasn't ready for that again, not with Jason.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian was tapping her foot against the floor, only half listening to what Mr. Molina was saying. She'd requested that he go over all of the information on the summer program and scholarship with her again, in explicit detail. It wasn't like she needed to hear it, but visiting the counselor had been her excuse to keep Grace from wanting to go over to Heather's, and now that Mr. Molina was almost through, she was scrambling to come up with something else.

"…and I think that's everything. Do you have any other questions?"

Adrian suddenly became aware of the fact that Grace, who had excused herself to use the restroom, wasn't back yet. "Where's Grace?"

Mr. Molina blinked. "Uh, I don't know." He stood and crossed to the door to look outside. He didn't see her. "I-"

Adrian pushed past him. "Grace? Grace!"

Suddenly Grace emerged from around a corner looking flushed and flustered. "Sorry, sorry!" she called, hearing the panic in her friend's voice. "I'm fine, I just wasn't feeling so well."

Adrian pressed her hand to her chest. "When you say you're going to be back in a minute, you had better be back in a minute!"

Grace smiled as she got to Adrian and Mr. Molina. "So," she said, changing the topic, "are you going to New York?"

Mr. Molina looked expectantly at Adrian.

Adrian shrank beneath their looks. There were so many reasons to say no, but one of the biggest ones was right in front of her, pushing her to say yes. She let her head drop and gave an exasperated sigh. "I guess I am."


	7. New Stork, New Stork

**A/N: **It really should not be August yet. This means I have less than a month before I'm back to college. It shall be my goal to get as much of TT:S3 up before that happens! Happy reading, everyone!

_**Turning Tables**_

**New Stork, New Stork**

"The stork's out of the bag! Formerly missing sixteen-year-old, Grace Bowman, who returned home unharmed last week after apparently running away of her own volition, is allegedly expecting! Although we were unable to reach Miss Bowman for comment, we have been able to speak with her ex-boyfriend, Grant Volberg, who believes that taking the next step in their relationship was what caused Grace to flee in the first place. Ed?"

The picture on the television cut to a shot of a reporter in an aquamarine dress shirt and black tie with a microphone held beneath his mouth and his finger pressed to the unseen earpiece in his ear. "Yes, Greg, I'm here with Mr. Volberg who has agreed to speak exclusively with KZAB this morning." The camera moved out to reveal both Ed and Grant Volberg in the shot. Ed pushed the microphone towards Grant. "Now Mr. Volberg, serious charges have been made against you, correct?"

"Yes, Sir. But I'm not guilty of anything other than loving Grace. There are plenty of good Christian people in the world who have premarital sex and I don't think God is going to punish us for that."

"So you did not sexually assault Ms. Bowman then?"

"Absolutely not. She'd just agreed to get back together with me and that's all I wanted and still want: to be with her."

"And what do you think about the possibility that she may be pregnant?"

"Well today was the first that I'd heard of it, but if Grace is pregnant, then of course I want to be there for her and our baby. I'm not going to skip out on my responsibilities. I love Grace and if she is pregnant, I know I already love this baby."

The screen went black with a small static pop and the remote control went hurdling across the room, hitting the wall so hard that the cover fell off and the batteries popped out. Grace's scream tore through the house and once her throat was too raw to scream anymore she sank to the floor just as her mother rushed in.

"Grace, what's wrong?!"

The teenager rocked back and forth with her legs pulled to her chest. Her eyes burned as though salt had just been thrown into them and she could already feel torrents drenching her cheeks. "They know! _They know!_"

"Who? Who knows what?" Kathleen draped her arms around her daughter and held her still. "What baby?" She brushed her daughter's short hair behind her ear. "What's happened?"

"The _news_," Grace whimpered. "They know about the baby…and they interviewed _him_."

"_What!" _Kathleen's whole body went rigid. "But that wasn't supposed to-"

"Well obviously it did!"

"No." Kathleen gripped Grace's arms protectively. "No, I am going down there right now! This is inexcusable!"

Grace fervently shook her head. "No! Please, no, don't leave me!"

Kathleen hesitated. There were so many emotions permeating the atmosphere, anger being the most prominent. But as her baby girl clung helplessly to her, she was stuck like a quarter jammed into a game machine. Kathleen relented and rested her chin on the top of Grace's head. "I'm here," she said quietly. "And don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Do you think she'll show up today?" Henry asked. He stood beside Alice who stood beside Ben at the latter's locker.

"After the truancy, she's legally not supposed to miss anymore school without a doctor's note."

Alice scoffed. "Who could blame her for missing one more day after having her name slandered all over the morning news?"

Ben slammed his locker in frustration. "Adrian's been trying to call her all morning. In fact, I think she's still out in her car right now trying to get a hold of her."

"You didn't go over to her house?"

"As soon as my dad told me about the news this morning I called Adrian and we went over there, but nobody was home."

"This is insane!" Amy seethed, walking towards the trio. "I can't take a step without hearing gossip about the things they were saying on the news this morning! How can the news station get away with this? How can that Grant guy get away with this?!"

"I don't know," Ben sighed. "Adrian has been asking me the same things and I just don't know." He threw up his arms. "She even took my phone once we got to school: she's been calling Grace on her phone and trying to look up slander laws on the Internet on mine. But I'm afraid that the news is going to be able to claim 'free press' or 'free speech' or 'free we-can-screw-you-however-we-like' and get away with it."

"She's here!"

Ben turned his head in the direction of the female voice who had uttered the words. They were from a girl in a Grant High cheerleading uniform although Ben didn't recognize her personally. He followed her outstretched finger and found that Grace had, indeed, just walked in with his girlfriend at her side.

At the end of the hallway, Grace stood ramrod straight in front of the double doors, leaning close to Adrian for moral – and possibly even physical – support. She was holding her breath as she looked up and down the sea of faces. Blood pounded in her ears and she couldn't make out what the anyone's voices were saying, but she could certainly tell that their lips were moving, their eyes staring, and their fingers pointing.

Grace wondered if this was how Adrian had felt the day she'd worn her _MOTHER SLUT_ t-shirt to school. The way Adrian had handled herself had left such a deep impression; so courageous and so poised. Her silver eyes carefully scanned the hallway, landing on the spot where that same morning Adrian had made her speech to the school body about her pregnancy.

"_Call it what it is, Grace: _pregnant!_ And yes. Yes!" Adrian took a step into the middle of the hallway and placed her fingers to her mouth, giving off a loud whistle that caught the whole crowd's attention. "I. Am. Pregnant. Everyone hear that? _I'm pregnant!_ And I'm having the baby! Gossip and whisper about me all you want, because I know you will. But also know this: I'm not ashamed! Everyone wants to make everyone feel like lowlife pieces of shit, especially teenage mothers, but I refuse. My mother spent her teenage years as a mother, humiliated and ashamed, and I refuse to repeat history. I'm damn proud to be her daughter, because she went through hell and back to make my life possible. I may have hated her some times and maybe she hated me some days too, but that doesn't change how I ultimately feel. I'm a _mother fucking teenager_ and _I'm proud of it!_ Do with that what you will. I'm out."_

The blonde marched down the center of the hallway and stopped in the same spot her best friend had stood just about a year-and-a-half before and shouted: "I have something to say!" When the hall quieted, she looked at Adrian who nodded. "I've just been at the police station for an hour because of the news report you all have undoubtedly been talking about this morning, only to find out that 'the source of the leak is being looked into.' But that doesn't help me, does it? 'The stork's out of the bag,'" she said, mimicking the KZAB reporter's voice. "So before this goes any further, here it is from my mouth to your ears: I _am_ pregnant and it _wasn't_ my choice! If he can go on the news and lie about this, then I feel I can certainly tell the truth right here and now: I did _not_ have sex with Grant Volberg. There is a word for what happened and it's not sex, it's _rape_!"

Grace pulled the zipper down on her sweat jacket and peeled it back to reveal a red shirt with the words _I WAS RAPED AND I WON'T STAY SILENT_ in white nail polish. She tore off the rest of her jacket and threw it on the ground, revealing the back of her t-shirt to read: _SHAME & BLAME BELONG ONLY TO THE RAPIST_. She realized at that moment that she was shaking. Not because she was afraid of telling the truth or embarrassed about what people might say, but because she was so full of unadulterated_ rage_. There were so many other things that she wanted to say, but she knew that there was time for that to come. Right now, the truth needed to sink in, so she turned quickly and quietly and went directly to class.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Hey, have you seen this?"

Ricky was trying to pay attention to and take notes from the movie that was playing at the front of the class, but the girl and boy off to the side of him kept whispering to each other and distracting him as they passed a cell phone back and forth under the table. Every so often the glow from the LCD screen would catch his eye, if the whispers didn't get his ears first. They were a notorious pair of classroom disrupters and the girl had had her cell phone confiscated in the same class just a few days before, otherwise they would have been on their normal routine of texting each other and giggling inanely until they finally got caught.

"What?"

"That Christian girl that's been on the news."

"What about her?"

"Someone uploaded the scene she made in the hallway this morning to YouTube. Look how many hits its got!"

Ricky felt his pencil snap between his fingers. He turned to look behind him and both of the whispering troublemakers had their heads dropped down and each one had a single ear bud in one ear. Although he couldn't see it, he knew they had to be watching the screen on the boy's phone from underneath the table. He quickly picked up the two broken pieces of his pencil, glanced towards the teacher who was grading papers at her desk, and then chucked them over his shoulders. There were synchronized cries and he knew he'd hit his targets.

The teacher looked up in time with a handful of students. "What is going on back there?"

Ricky looked over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows, daring the two to rat on him. If they did, they'd have to explain what they had been doing as well.

"M-my pencil snapped!" the girl improvised, grabbing the pieces of Ricky's broken pencil as the boy, Ricky assumed, went about trying to conceal the cell phone underneath the desk. "I'm sorry! It won't happen again!"

Ricky turned back in his seat and reached into his binder for a backup pencil. He resisted the urge to get his own cell phone out and sneak off to the bathroom to find out just what, exactly, had been uploaded to the Internet. As a small town, Valley Glen was a breeding ground for viral rumors and gossip and his stomach sank to his feet just thinking about the comments that people might be posting about Grace. He hadn't actually been there at the start of Grace's speech in the hallway, but he had heard the last of it as he'd been walking down from the band room and the courage Grace had in revealing the truth to everyone like that was something he both admired and envied. Having been a victim himself, he now feared for her what he had feared for himself for so many years. Perhaps for Grace even more so.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Grace wiped the corners of her mouth as she stepped out of the bathroom stall and stopped short, seeing that all of the sinks were occupied. She noticed several pairs of eyes stealing glances at her from the reflections in the mirrors and she held her head strong, staring back into the reflections of each one until the girls looked back into the sinks as their sudsy and sopping fingers and palms. She waited until at least two girls had left, leaving only a mousy haired brunette with a ponytail and Amy.

The blonde pushed against the soap dispenser until her hand was full of gooey liquid pink, then she rubbed her hands together into a foamy white lather, and took turns holding them under the water as she used one hand to keep the handle of the sink turned on. She was done with one hand and nearly half done rinsing the other when the mousy haired girl left. She could feel Amy looking at her as she finished rinsing and moved to the paper towel dispenser.

"I could never have done what you did this morning."

Grace slowly patted her hands dry. "I pray that you're never in a position where you even have to think about doing so."

"So you're really going to do this?" she whispered. "Have his baby?"

"It's not 'his' baby. As far as I'm concerned, he has no claim to it."

Amy moved to the paper towel dispenser to stand beside the blonde. She cautiously pulled out a couple of the folded papers and began to crinkle them around her hands. "I wish I knew what to say, but I don't know if there is anything to say in this situation." She dropped the wad of paper towels into the trash and pushed her bangs back with her fingers. "I know we haven't really been the best of friends – not like you and Adrian or you and Ben or even you and Ricky – but I just want you to know if there's anything that I can do for you…"

Grace nodded. "I appreciate that, Amy."

Amy unconsciously fingered the strap of her backpack on her left shoulder. "And just so you know: I'm not mad or jealous or anything. About my dad, I mean…being there for your family. I still have mixed feelings about them dating, but after you went missing and everything hit the fan I began to realize that maybe he was needed more there than with Ashley and I."

"Me too," she admitted, her voice hairline cracking. "I did a really stupid thing by leaving, but it seemed like the only way at the time. Looking at my mom and Tom now, I can see that I should've at least let them know I was okay. I'm thankful you're dad was there to help get them through. My mom said she didn't know what she would've done without me or my dad if George hadn't been there."

The bell echoed through the empty bathroom and Amy winced. She felt like she'd barely scratched the surface of all the things she wanted to say. "Looks like passing period's over."

"You'd better get to class," Grace grimly smiled. "You don't want to end up being 'truant.'"

Amy nodded. "Maybe we could get together sometime soon?" she offered as she opened the door for the blonde. "You know, just grab a bite and talk or something?"

Grace gave her an earnest nod. "I'd like that."

"Me too."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

After school Adrian stood in the parking lot between her best friend and her convertible. "Are you sure you don't want a ride?"

"Positive."

Adrian strummed her nails against the red paint on her driver's door. "I don't feel comfortable leaving you here alone without a ride."

Grace wound her arms around Adrian's neck and hugged her intensely. "Thank you for caring so much, Adrian, but I need to do this. I need to talk to Jason, okay? I spilled the beans about everything to the whole school this morning and I still haven't had a real face-to-face with my boyfriend…if he even is anymore. I think I owe him that much, don't you?"

"I could wait with you until football practice is over."

"I think that would be a little awkward, don't you? Besides, you have homework. Plus, weren't you supposed to sit down with Ben and Mr. Boykewich this weekend and talk about arrangements for your trip this summer?"

"This weeke_nd_," the Latina emphasized. "Today's only Friday."

"Okay, so it's the bookend to the weekend. Most people still count it." Grace patted Adrian's arm. "You're just still avoiding it. You should embrace it. It's an amazing opportunity!"

Adrian let her head roll back on her shoulders and she sighed overly dramatically. "All right," she groaned. "But _at least_ let me walk you over to the football field."

"Done." Grace was quiet for half the walk towards the field, slowing down to kick a few pebbles here and there along the way. "Adrian?"

"Hm?"

Grace touched her stomach. "You don't still have any of those prenatal vitamins leftover from when you were pregnant with Mercy, do you?"

Adrian curled her toes in her boots. Each time the topic of Grace's pregnancy came up, it made her feel terribly uncomfortable, even if it was Grace herself who had broached it. "No, sorry…I did, but I gave them all to Heather."

Grace nodded understandingly. "Of course you did." The words weren't said sarcastically or with malice, just in a simple tone that echoed _duh_. She thumped her palm against her forehead. "Well, anyway, it never hurts to ask, right? I just thought…I was looking at some in the grocery store yesterday and they're pretty expensive. Like fifteen to twenty dollars a bottle. I even saw one that was almost fifty dollars!" She shrugged. "So I just thought, you know, _maybe_."

"I'm sorry. If I'd-" She stopped. If she'd known, she would've saved them? The little voice in Adrian's head gave a dark laugh. If she'd known, she would've taken care of Grant a long time ago and Grace wouldn't even be pregnant!

Knowing exactly what her friend had been about to say, Grace smiled to try and get her mind off of it. "It's fine," she brushed off. "Heather was in a worse place than me; she needed them more. I'm glad you gave them to her."

They'd finally reached the football field and Adrian began to climb the bleachers behind Grace. She wanted to argue with that last statement: _financially_, maybe Heather had been worse off, but at least Heather had never been forced to have sex with someone against her will. Immediately, Adrian felt bad for thinking the things she was thinking. If she was saying them out loud, she could almost hear Grace throwing back that unlike Heather, she'd never had her parents abandon her. She sighed as Grace sat down and Adrian plopped down beside her.

Grace folded her arms. "You said you were just going to walk me here."

"I know." Adrian glanced at the football field where the Lancers' football team were throwing themselves into dummies. "But now I'm tired. I carry a one-year-old around all day, what do you expect?"

"All right," Grace gave in. "Five minutes."

Adrian leaned back, leaning her elbows against the bleacher behind her, and propping the heels of her shoes up on the bleacher in front of her. "Five minutes," she agreed victoriously.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Have you spoken with Heather?" Margaret asked as soon as Ricky came through the front door.

Ricky froze in the entry way and stared. He was hoping he'd be able to make a beeline for his bedroom and avoid this conversation entirely.

"I didn't think so," Margaret sighed. She motioned for Ricky to set down his backpack and follow her into the kitchen.

Ricky felt his stomach swirling as he did as instructed and walked in to find his dad already sitting at the kitchen table. "What is this?" he asked. "An intervention?"

Margaret pulled out a chair for her son and once he'd sat down, she pulled out a chair next to her husband for herself. "I told you on Monday that we can't just look the other way if your friend is endangering herself. Normally, I would go to her parents about this, but since that isn't an option, you asked me to give you until Friday to talk to her yourself and try to get her help."

"And judging by the look on your mother's face, that hasn't happened yet, has it Ricky?"

"She hasn't been at school all week," Ricky sighed. "I've tried to go out to her house every day after school, but she refuses to answer the door."

"And did you try her work?" Shakur asked.

"She called in sick a couple times this week and then traded a couple shifts with a co-worker too. They wouldn't tell me her hours though."

"You say she hasn't been at school all week?" Margaret asked.

Ricky nodded.

"Without her parents' cooperation, how does she avoid truancies?"

"She usually isn't absent very often," Ricky explained. "Except for after she had the baby and then she had a doctor's note excusing her for the time off. But…when she is absent, I think she calls the school and pretends to be her mother to 'excuse' her."

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that she also forges her parents' signatures for official documents, too?"

"I don't know. She didn't get kicked out until after the school year had started, so I don't know if that's ever even come up."

Margaret touched her fingertips to her right temple and let out a heavy breath. "Don't get me wrong, Ricky: I do feel bad for Heather and I want to help her in every way possible. I know that with everything that's happened with her parents, she wants to be prove that she can survive on her own and I wanted to believe that as well…but this isn't the way. Clearly, she's not coping and she needs an authority figure in her life."

Ricky shook his head. "Mom, no! Please, you can't! Heather doesn't belong in the system, that will only make things worse for her!"

"I'm a Social Worker, Ricky. I can't just turn a blind eye to this any longer. I'm going to have to report this."

"Mom!"

"Your mother's right, son." Shakur reached across the table to lay his hand on Ricky's.

"I am going to do everything in my power for her. I promise."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Hey."

"Hey," Grace greeted in return.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here." Jason plied his football helmet off his head. "Where's Adrian?"

"Oh, she was just dropping me off."

"Do you have a ride?" he asked, concerned.

"I can call my mom."

Jason shook his head. "No, I'll take you home…I mean, if that's okay with you."

Grace nodded. "I know it's a little presumptuous, but I was hoping you would say that." The next few minutes were filled with small talk as they walked into the school and up to the locker room where Grace waited for Jason to change and come back out.

"So where do you want to go?" he asked. Lines creased his face. "I assume you want to talk?"

Grace nodded. "Yeah. I've put it off long enough, don't you think?" She looked at his duffle bag. "Why don't we go drop that off at your car and then take a walk?"

"A walk? Where?"

Grace shrugged. "The football field?"

Jason snorted. "Well what did we even leave for?" he asked jokingly.

"Because who wants to stay in sweaty, smelly, grass stained football attire any longer than they have to?"

"Oh and here I thought you liked all that."

Grace felt the back of her throat constrict, like a metal pipe icing over in the dead of winter. If she just closed her eyes, it could almost be the beginning of March again, when she could just laugh and flirt without Jason and there was no Grant or rape or pregnancy that had come between them. She quickly shut her smile off and was silent as Jason tossed his duffle into his trunk and they made their way back to the football field.

They walked an eighth of the way around the perimeter of the football field before Jason asked, "So everything they've been saying on the news…"

"Is only true to an extent." Grace wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, feeling her emotions taking a turn for the worst again. She was beginning to feel as wishy washy as a politician. "This morning –"

"I know." Jason bowed his head. "I didn't actually see it at first, but someone recorded it with a camera phone. It's online. One of my teammates showed me."

Grace gulped. "And it just keeps getting better," she said sarcastically.

"I think you were really brave to do that."

"Yeah, well I got my inspiration from Adrian and what she did last year."

"Don't give Adrian all the credit. You're in a completely different situation. Most people wouldn't have been able to do what you did."

"Yeah, maybe most of them would've run away and stayed gone."

"But you didn't. You came back and you're facing your fears. That's really strong, Grace."

Grace stopped walking. "I guess I have to be, since everything else is shattering down around me."

Jason reached for Grace's hand, but she tugged it away. A pained expression flashed against his brown eyes, but he tried to hide it. "Does that include us?"

Grace nodded, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"I don't blame you and I don't think any less of you. You have to know that."

"I do. I absolutely, one-hundred percent believe that. But you have to know that I'm in no position to be in a relationship with someone right now, no matter how much I care about you." She held up the hand he'd tried to hold. "I can't even have a boy touch me on the hand without wanting to shrink away! That's not fair."

"Physicality is only part of a relationship, it's not everything. In fact, it's probably the least important thing."

"Be that as it may, it's also not fair to ask you to be the Ricky to my Adrian. The simple fact is: I'm having a baby and it's not yours and you don't deserve to have this kind of responsibility dumped on you. If you're in my life, then by default, you're going to be in this baby's life, and that's not fair either."

"So…you're keeping it?"

Grace covered her hands to her face. "I don't know what I'm doing," she said, the words muffled by her hands. She drug her hands down her face and stared defeatedly at Jason. "I never imagined myself as the type of person who could give my own child away. On the other hand, I never imagined myself in this position either. Still, it's not like I – or my mom – can really afford a baby right now. I mean, we've been getting by well enough on the money that my dad left us. He made really good money and was always good with saving and earning interest which was why my mom could afford to be a stay-at-home mom with two kids…one with special needs. But throw a baby into the mix and there has to be lifestyle changes, there's no way around that. And speaking of my dad…I already lost him last year. A year ago next month. And now with this baby…it'll be a part of him too. How can I lose him and then give up the only living part of him that I have left?"

"You said yourself that you've already lost so much in your life. So I don't understand how it makes sense to push anything else out of it that you don't have to. What if I want you in my life despite the baby?"

"I will gladly still have you in my life, just not as my boyfriend. I can't do that. I just can't. Look how crazy Adrian's life got when she was pregnant and trying to juggle her feelings for someone who wasn't her baby's father!"

"But it's not like the baby's father is going to be an issue between us. Not in the same way that Ben was for Adrian and Ricky."

"You're right. Grant just might be worse. Besides, you have your future to think about too. You're graduating next year and you have such a bright future ahead of you! Football and your dreams of being a doctor! You'll probably get some wonderful scholarship at a school a long way away from silly little Valley Glen and then you won't have time for a long distance high school crush anyway. Believe me, Jason: I'm thinking of all of us right now. I don't want to hurt you, but I know this is the best way."

"I don't agree with you, but I'm not going to fight you if only because you've been through so much already."

"I appreciate that." Grace fingered the strap of her purse. "Do you want me to call my mom?"

"I said I'd take you home, didn't I?"

"That was before I broke up with you on the football field."

"I guess you don't always get home turf advantage, do you?" He reached to put his arm around her shoulders but stopped and pulled back, respecting Grace's wish not to be touched. "It doesn't mean we can't still be friends. And I don't just mean superficial friends. I want to be a close friend; someone you can count on. Is that something you would consider?"

"I'd consider that a wonderful gift," Grace answered tearfully.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Where are you?"

"Where are _you_?" Ben asked, adjusting his cell phone against his ear.

"In your room, actually. I thought you got off an hour ago, did you stay late?"

"No." Ben squirmed against the wall he was leaning against. "I had to run an errand. It might be a bit longer. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine. I'm just working on some school work. Uh, what kind of an errand?"

"Something for Mercy."

"What?"

"Diapers," Ben blurted out. "I was getting low on diapers. And then I got distracted in the baby aisle."

"I just bought a package of diapers the other day. You should've let me know, we could've split them."

Ben leaned back, relieved. "No, that's okay. It's probably better for each of us to have our own boxes since we're in two different houses anyway. Anyway, I gotta go. I'll see you later! Give Mercy a kiss for me! Bye!" He hung up before Adrian could answer and quickly turned off his phone and shoved it into his back pocket. When he looked up, he was staring into a quaint bedroom with a daintily made bed and a floral comforter.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Ben?" came an unseen female voice from behind the teenager.

"No. I think I'm good for today," Ben said confidently, shutting the door behind him.


	8. The Drowns Of Silence

**A/N: **_So so sorry everyone!_ The back-to-college stuff got the best of me and I am seriously so behind on updating. *fist shake*

_**Turning Tables**_

**The Drowns Of Silence**

"What are these?"

"What it says on the tin," Kathleen replied. "Prenatal vitamins."

Grace frowned. "How much were they? I'll pay you back-"

"Don't worry about it," Kathleen insisted. "I was doing the shopping yesterday and I picked those up when I picked up my multi vitamins. It's not a big deal."

"It is," Grace insisted. "They're expensive!"

Kathleen sighed and turned away from the frying pan which was hissing and popping. She absently waved a greasy spatula as she explained: "You need them, Grace, and in the grand scheme of having a baby, they're a drop in the bucket. So please, do your old mom a favor and don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

Grace sighed. "Thanks," she said earnestly, before seating herself at the kitchen table. She fought with the child proof lid for a few minutes before it finally popped off and she poured a couple of the vitamins into the lid to examine them: they were large capsules, filled with that looked like finely grained beach sand. The teenager's face soured. "Horse pills?"

Kathleen chuckled. "Pretty much! You need a lot of supplements when you're having a baby." She flipped over the egg in the pan and a couple of hot droplets of bacon grease spat out of the pan, stinging her arm. She yelped and moved to grab a napkin from the island.

"It says I'm supposed to eat them with a meal." Grace stood up and moved curiously towards the pan, staying at a far enough distance to avoid the splatter. "What's for breakfast?"

Kathleen grabbed the handle of the pan and swirled the egg around it before setting it back on the burner and then moved to the microwave and opened the door. "Good old fashion bacon and eggs," she smiled proudly. "I'm frying the eggs in the bacon grease, just the way you and Tom like them."

But as soon as the smell of bacon wafted into Grace's face from the plate in the open microwave, Grace's hand slammed against her mouth and nose and she turned on her heel, darting for the nearest bathroom. She was there for several minutes before she finally flushed the toilet and slammed the lid down.

Kathleen peeked inside. "Sweetie?"

Grace climbed onto the toilet lid and grabbed a wad of toilet paper to wipe the chunks off the corners of her wet mouth. "I hate this."

"I know." Kathleen moved to her daughter's side and stroked her fingers through Grace's hair. "You want me to brush your hair?"

"Don't you still have food on the stove?"

"I took it off. It's waiting for you, _if _you want it. If not, don't feel obligated. I'm sure Tom will gladly eat it if you don't."

"Tom can have it," Grace replied immediately. Then she closed her eyes, feeling bad. "Not that I don't want it, I just-"

"I know." Kathleen tapped Grace's shoulder. "I remember I used to have_ terrible_ morning sickness with you."

"Sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. That's just pregnancy for you."

"But it gets better?"

Kathleen just smiled sympathetically. "It helped me to eat cold food."

Grace raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Why?"

"Cold food generally has less of a smell than warm food. If I could get the food past my nose and down my throat, it had a much better chance of staying down than if I tried to do battle with something aromatic."

"So I guess baking it out for the next seven months."

Kathleen squeezed Grace's shoulder. "Why don't you clean yourself up and I'll go see what I can whip up from the fridge, okay?"

"Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Did you and Adrian get into a fight?"

Ben jumped at the sound of his father's voice. The bowl of oatmeal he was holding slipped between his fingers and landed on the floor, miraculously without shattering. The goopy contents, however, splattered everywhere as though it had hit a fan.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Leo chuckled. He moved to the counter to grab a handful of napkins while his son soaked the dish cloth at the sink. He struggled to bend down and begin wiping up the steaming, butter and brown sugar coated mess.

"Sorry, sorry," Ben groaned, dropping to the floor beside his father to help. "You don't need to worry about this, I got it."

Leo stopped wiping and gave the teenager a pointed stare. "All right." He pushed to his full height and tossed the wad of drippy napkins into the trash, but he continued to stare at Ben.

Ben tried to clean up as much as he could without looking at his dad but eventually the dish cloth got too bogged down with slimy oats to hold anything else. He swiftly turned and began to rinse and wring out the cloth in the sink. As he turned back, he found his father standing in his way. "I didn't get it all."

"I see," Leo frowned. "I can also see you're avoiding my question."

"I'm not avoiding your question," Ben replied evasively. "I'm just a little distracted."

"With what?"

"A lot of things."

"_Like?"_

"Like studying for finals. They're only three weeks away. And summer, with Adrian going off to that program in New York. And work. And my daughter."

Leo rubbed his chin as though he didn't quite believe he was getting the whole story. "So where were you all weekend? I had assumed – and before you say it, I know I shouldn't – that you had been with Adrian and Mercy. But I ran into Kathleen on Sunday and she said Adrian was at her house with Grace, but Mercy wasn't with them."

Ben shrugged. "I took her out. I needed to get a few things done."

"What things?"

"I studied, okay?" Ben finally snapped. "And I took Mercy to the park for a while for a little one-on-one time. Is that a crime?"

Leo held up his hands defensively. "Okay. I – I'm sorry, Ben. I just wanted to know. I'm your father," he reminded carefully. "I have a right to know where you are, remember?"

Ben finished cleaning up the remainder of the spill and turned to the sink, keeping his back to his father. "How could I forget?"

"Excuse me?"

Ben slapped the dish cloth against the faucet and spun back around. "Nothing." He chanced a look at the time on the microwave and skirted around Leo to the cabinet beside the toaster. He yanked a silver package of Pop-Tarts out of the box which proclaimed the flavor to be blueberry. "Briella's running late," he said, referring to the nanny. "I have to go now, so can you watch Mercy until she gets here? She said she'd only be about ten or fifteen minutes."

Leo nodded. "I'm free all morning."

"Thanks."

Ben bolted out of the kitchen as his father said something to him that he couldn't quite make out. He thought it might have been a _you're welcome_ or something of that nature, but he had no intention of turning back to find out for sure. He'd been too flustered and thrown off by the fact that his dad was, yet _again_, poking his nose into places that Ben wanted him to stay out of.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"_!Joder!"_ Adrian threw her arms into the air as a long stream of colorful Spanish curses coursed between her glossed lips. She curled her manicured hand and thumped her fist down on something.

Cindy came running into the room two seconds later with her toothbrush in hand and her bath towel wrapped around herself, her black hair still wet and stuck to her head and shoulders. "What the hell is going on in here?" she demanded.

Adrian pointed an accusatory finger at the printer. "It hates me. And the feeling is mutual. I told you, we need a new printer. Every time I have an important assignment this thing jams up on me! Or the ink dries up. I swear we just bought new ink three weeks ago and I have barely used it since!"

Cindy narrowed her eyes. "Well if you wouldn't wait until the last minute to print out your assignments, maybe you would have the time to deal with the paper jams?"

"That's not the point. It shouldn't be jamming in the first place! It's a device for my convenience, not the other way around." The teenager angrily wedged her fingers up into the printer and wiggled them around for a few minutes before jerking and fighting against a piece of paper that finally ripped in half, leaving the other half up inside the printer where she couldn't get to it. Again, she thudded the printer in fury.

"Adrian!" Cindy scolded. "Enough!" She wiped her brow. "Look, is there any way you can print out your assignment at school? I'll –" she sighed "–I'll _try_ to look into getting something today."

"They cost you ten cents a page to print anything in the library. And this is a ten page research paper! That's a dollar that I could be putting towards Mercy."

"Well…what about Ben? Couldn't you print it out at his house? I'm sure Leo wouldn't mind."

"It still costs me gas to get over there. Besides, I already thought of that, and he's not answering his cell phone and his dad said he already left." Adrian glared at the printer as she yanked her flash drive out of her computer, not even bothering to go through the process of the safe removal. "Never mind," she finally sighed. "I'll think of something." She dropped the flash drive into her bag, snatched up her keys from the table, and made a straight line towards the front door. "I'll see you later."

"I love you, _Chica_."

Adrian paused at the door and looked back at her mother. A pebble of guilt weighed in the pit of her stomach. "I love you too," she sighed.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"…and her parents have agreed to take her back in."

Ricky felt like his insides were spilling out right in front of him onto the carpet. _"No!"_ His shoulders and neck were growing hot and he could feel the veins undulating beneath the surface of his skin like little snakes swimming beneath the ripples of a pond. "She's been on her own for almost a year! They obviously don't want her back!"

"I know," Margaret agreed, her voice grave. "I spoke with the officers who met with Heather's parents and they believe as I do: they're only agreeing to take Heather back to avoid being charged with child neglect and abandonment. They're claiming that Heather ran away and was never forced to leave the residence."

"That's bull!" Ricky slammed his hands down on the kitchen table. "You can't let them do this! They didn't want her there the first time and they're only taking her back now to cover their own asses. Imagine what they could do to her in retaliation!"

Again, Margaret nodded. Her eyes shifted to her husband.

"We have," Shakur agreed. He set his mug of hot tea down and the scent of ginger and cinnamon wafted up to tickle Ricky's nose.

"That's why we're filing an ex parte petition as before we go to work today."

"Provided," Shakur added, "that you're okay with that."

Ricky felt the swollen veins shrink ever so slightly. The heat that was fueling his rage fell a few degrees as he processed the information he'd just been fed. "An ex parte?" he repeated. "But that's – that's a petition for guardianship."

"Temporary guardianship," Shakur corrected.

A tiny smiled flickered at the corner of Margaret's lips. "Yes it is. Obviously Heather can't stay on her own any longer, yet staying with her parents is not a viable option either. However, we do have the extra room and although it would certainly require some adjustment, I think we could ultimately help Heather."

"You're sure about this?"

"I have a few contacts down at the courthouse who can put a rush on this," Margaret nodded.

"But only if this is something you want to commit to, Ricky. You're our son, first and foremost. Although we'd like to help Heather, we don't want to make you anymore uncomfortable than you have to be."

"You said it's temporary?" Ricky asked. "How temporary?"

"That depends on what the judge has to say when he reviews the situation."

Ricky closed his eyes, trying to picture Heather living just upstairs from him. It had been a couple years since there had been any other kids in the house and much longer than that since he'd had anyone close to his own age. A part of him wanted to agree, no questions asked, but the itch of his scabbing bite wound said otherwise. "Do you really want to do this or are you just doing it for me?"

"Ricky, we've been taking in foster children with backgrounds up and down the spectrum since long before you entered our lives. That was something your father and I have always been drawn to; we've always felt we could do more good by helping children who need it instead of bringing more children into the world. If we can help one more, we're more than happy to oblige."

It was only after Ricky felt himself nodding that he realized his mind had made itself up before he'd even caught on. "O – okay," he said slowly. "I guess we might as well give it a shot then. I won't jinx us by saying I don't see how it could make things any worse, but uh…you know."

Margaret rose from the table, taking hers and Shakur's empty tea mugs to the sink. "We were hoping you'd feel that way."

"Do you know where she's at right now?"

"We do," Shakur nodded. "But she can't have visitors at the moment."

"Well, do you know how long it will take before we know if they've accepted or denied the petition?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we know." Margaret grabbed Ricky's lunch box from the edge of the counter and offered it to him. "You'd better get going now though, otherwise all of us are going to be late this morning."

Ricky accepted the lunchbox, suddenly feeling like he was twelve-years-old again. It felt heavier than it should have, like it was packed full of apples and nothing else. He shook his head, knowing that his mind was playing tricks on him. "I guess I'll see you after school then?"

Shakur stood and joined Margaret by the counter. "Have a good day, son."

Ricky awkwardly turned away. It just didn't seem right to leave it at that but he couldn't figure out what else there was that needed to be done. He squeezed the handle of the lunchbox as he stopped, halfway over the threshold out of the kitchen. He turned suddenly and rushed back at his parents, engulfing both of them in a giant hug. A tiny voice inside his head reminded him just how overly sentimental he was being and scolded him for it, but this time the emotion was winning out and he simply couldn't help himself. Some days he still wondered how he could have been born to the worst parents on the planet and somehow ended up with the best.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Thanks for letting me print this out, Mrs. Bowman." Adrian anxiously hovered around the Bowmans' printer. The first three pages were already in the tray and the fourth was about half completed.

"Not a problem," Kathleen smiled. "It maybe be a little slow, but it's reliable."

"We used to have a better one, but Tom left a pencil in the tray and it rolled down into the back and got stuck. He got it out but had to snap the pencil in half doing so and I think it shorted out the connection to the buttons because it never worked right again. It was our two-in-one printer and scanner, too," Grace said, shooting a dirty look at her brother.

Tom just smiled innocently. "I don' 'member leavin' a pencil," he shrugged. "Wasn' me."

Grace looked to her mother who said nothing and proceeded to roll her silver eyes. "It's _never _you," she bit back.

"Tom's not the only one who's invoked that excuse before," Kathleen reminded, shooting her youngest a stern look. "But I guess it must be our resident ghost."

Tom held up his arms and made a haunting _wooo-oooo _noise like a cheesy sound effect out of _Zombo's House of Horror Movies_.

Kathleen just shook her head and looked to Adrian. "While you're waiting, are you hungry? We have some leftover bacon and eggs."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Adrian said, shaking her head. "I had at least five cornbread muffins with butter and honey followed up with a milk chaser before I left this morning so I should be good until lunch, but I appreciate the offer."

Kathleen nodded. "Well if you change your mind, I'll be in the kitchen putting away the leftovers."

Grace waited until her mother and brother had left the room before turning a meek smile towards her friend. "My mom does make pretty mean bacon and eggs," she winked.

"Morning sickness?" Adrian asked knowingly as she slid out the first four pages of her essay, arranging them in order, and then tapped them on the counter to align the edges.

"Yeah." Grace let her head fall back on her shoulders. "Thanks for picking me up today, by the way. I'm feeling a little…I don't know, dizzy? Light headed? I can't really figure out how to describe it, but I just don't want to drive this morning."

"It worked out for both of us," Adrian said, taking the fifth tray from the page and waving it at her friend. "And light headed?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Don't quote me on this, but I'm pretty sure that's because your circulatory system isn't getting enough blood." She began to strum her nails on the top of the printer as she waited for it to spit out page six. "I'll see if I can dig out some of the first trimester pregnancy books I bought. I never gave those to Heather because, well…she was already way past that by the time we met."

"I'd appreciate that," Grace said distantly. She shifted her eyes to the floral print baby doll top that was covering her abdomen. "I uh…I have my first doctor's appointment after school today."

Adrian turned her head in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Is your mom going with you?"

"Mhmm."

"Well, uh –" Adrian fumbled for a response. Obviously _congratulations_ was out of the question and anything else with a positive spin seemed wrong, yet she was keenly aware of Grace's moral views on the situation, and sarcastic or condoling comments were equally as inappropriate. "–good luck." She desperately hoped that it hadn't come out sounding like a question. "Who are you seeing? I could get you the number of –"

"I'm seeing someone Dr. Hightower recommended. Apparently she and my dad worked with her on several occasions so I trust that. They'd originally recommended her son, but…" Grace looked away. "I don't think I'd be entirely comfortable with a male OB/GYN."

"What do men know about lady parts anyway?" the Latina said, attempting to lighten the air.

Grace cracked a faint smile. "Yeah." She pushed off of her seat then and came to stand on the opposite side of the printer tray as it churned out page seven. "So," she said, her tone changing in a single snap, "have you talked to Ricky lately?"

"Ricky?" Adrian questioned, the pitch of her voice rising in surprise. "Why?"

"Because I know you know something. Did you really think the Heather-is-out-with-the-flu was going to fly forever? And _you,_" she said, poking her friend in the arm with her index finger, "being so fervent in your attempts to keep me from going over there: 'The last thing you need to do now is catch the flu' and 'it's not pretty, Grace, you shouldn't be around that right now.' Did you really think I wouldn't notice? What's _really_ going on with Heather?"

Adrian pressed her hand to her forehead and scratched her hairline slowly. "All right," she sighed. "But it's important that you keep this between us."

"Well we both know I can keep a secret."

Adrian winced and produced her cell phone from her bag. She located her text message exchanges with Ricky and handed the device over to the blonde.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Ben, Ben, Ben, thank god you're here!" Amy practically bulldozed him as soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk. "Can I please borrow your homework from last night? I'm not trying to cheat and I swear I actually _did_ the reading, I just was so tired and…I set my alarm to get up at four and fill in the study guide but I slept right through it." The band member bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Please? I'll owe you!"

Ben winced at his friend's desperation. "I would," he said slowly, "but I only got half of it done myself."

Amy's face melted. "Oh."

"You can see the ones I did do," Ben said. He fumbled to wriggle out of his backpack and knelt down right there on the sidewalk beside her and began searching for his homework.

Amy rubbed her forehead as she crouched down beside him. "I guess I deserve this for waiting until the last minute.

"Funny thing is, I was going to ask you if I could borrow_ your_ guide."

Amy laughed. "So what's your excuse?"

Ben tensed his shoulders. "I was just focused on other things this weekend. I had every intention of getting it done, but you know what they say about the road to hell."

Amy accepted the study guide from Ben. Half of it was crumpled and the bottom had been ripped and poorly taped back together. She frowned. "You must have had some weekend. This is bottom-of-the-backpack treatment. That's not like you."

Ben scratched the back of his head and avoided her eyes as he zipped up his backpack and hauled it over his shoulders. "We don't have much time, but there's an empty table over there." He nodded towards an empty outdoor table in the lunch area. "Wanna see what we can get finished before the bell?"

"Two heads are better than one." Amy attempted to smooth the wrinkles in the sheet as she read his answers, glancing up over the edge of the sheet every now and then to make sure she wasn't about to walk into anyone or anything. "Hey, you don't think Henry-"

"No."

Amy blinked. Then, unable to help herself, she snorted out a laugh. "I appreciate the brevity of that answer."

Ben finally cracked a grin. "I love Henry, but if there's one thing he isn't, it's the smart kid Asian cliché. If it wasn't for Alice, I don't know how he'd get on in school."

"You mean she lets him-"

Ben quickly shook his head. "Noooo! Alice won't let him copy off her. Actually, she won't let _anyone_ copy off her. She basically tutors him. That's how we met."

"I thought you met in third grade?"

"We did. _Group work_," Ben laughed. "You know how there's always that one kid in the group who does all the work so she or he doesn't get a bad grade thanks to the slacker or the kid who doesn't want to be a slacker but genuinely doesn't understand the material? Well, that_ should've_ been Alice, but she took it upon herself to bring Henry and I up to her level instead of just letting us fill in her answers. If that's not the basis for a lifelong friend, I don't know what is."

"Well if I didn't feel bad about asking you for your homework earlier, you can bet I do now."

Ben dropped his backpack onto the red honeycomb of the tabletop and plopped down on the bench style seat. "You wanna take the top, I'll take the bottom, and we'll meet in the middle?"

Amy yanked her textbook out of her bag and set it next to Ben's. "I never opposed to a little Diamond Rio in the morning."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

The school day buzzed by as if someone had hit the fast forward button on her life. It was probably the fastest school day she'd ever had, half days included, and an hour after school had gotten out, Grace found herself sitting inside a doctor's office next to her mother, waiting to meet the woman who would be guiding her through the next several months.

"Do you have any questions?" Kathleen asked quietly.

Grace shook her head. "Not really."

"Are you sure?"

The teenager nodded. "I figure it can't be that much different than the first appointment I went to with Adrian."

Kathleen nodded, her face flushing a bit. "Right. I'd completely forgotten about that." She nervously looked towards the open door. "And you know that if this place or this doctor aren't to your liking, we can absolutely go somewhere else, don't you? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, Grace."

"Anymore than I have to, you mean." Grace reached across the chairs to touch her mother's forearm. "I know," she said simply. "But Dr. Otavi comes highly recommended from Dr. Hightower and she takes our insurance, so unless she turns out to be a real nightmare, I don't think I'm going to be switching once I get started."

"But just in case-"

"I know. I always have options." The statement rang ironically in her head but she didn't have time to dwell on it because at that moment a surprisingly tall woman with a rich Italian tan made her way into the office. She had a tightly molded bun of salt-and-pepper hair; its sheer thickness made Grace suspect that, if let down, the woman's hair was probably luxuriously long. Grace noted how she seemed to move with the refinement of a satin ribbon on airless afternoon.

"I am so sorry," Dr. Ottavi said. Her words were clear but underneath the dialogue there was an unmistakable Italian accent, diluted, no doubt, from years of Americanization. "A patient cancelled, then rescheduled, and we already had you coming in so we didn't want to have to cancel." She offered her hand – long fingers with short, curved nails with nothing but a few coats of clear gloss – and introduced herself.

"Grace Bowman," Grace replied. "And it's no problem, really. I appreciate you squeezing me in at the last minute."

Dr. Ottavi seated herself behind her desk and opened the file in her hands. "And you're Kathleen?" she asked, arching a salt-and-pepper eyebrow.

"Yes, Grace's mother."

"I recognize you from the pictures Marshall used to keep in his office." She offered her hand across the desk. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." Kathleen glanced sideways at Grace as if to say something else, but she didn't.

"You can both say it," Grace sighed. "'If only it were under different circumstances.'"

Dr. Ottavi looked impassively at the teen. "Be that as it may, they aren't, and my job is to deal with the things that are. I hope that's not a problem for either of you."

The teenager eyed the folder, suspecting that it probably contained everything about her and how she got to be sitting in this woman's office today. It seemed wrong that all of that could be boiled down to such a thin, handheld eight by ten device. "It's not," Grace replied. "I just want someone who is going to take good care of me, not someone who's going to pity me."

"Then why don't we jump right in, shall we? Have you been reading up on your pregnancy, Grace?"

Grace bit her lip and looked down at her lap. "I haven't really had much of a chance since I got back into town. Sorry."

"We'll have to see what we can do about getting you some information then. I'm told you're roughly eleven weeks along? Any guesses what might be going on inside your womb right now?"

Grace shook her head. "Outside of morning sickness, I'm really pretty clueless."

Dr. Ottavi smiled. "Well at this stage, the baby is about the size of a fig," she said, indicating about an inch-and-a-half with her fingers. "Some of the skeleton is beginning to harden and he or she is nearly completely formed. You can't feel it yet, but the baby is already kicking and flexing."

Grace's eyes turned to her stomach. It was hard to comprehend something so small being so active and her being utterly unaware of it.

"And you said you've been having a lot of morning sickness?"

"Yeah," Grace murmured distantly.

"Well the good news is: that can indicate a healthy pregnancy. Although not conclusive, studies have found correlations between morning sickness and the lower risk of miscarriages. Typically, the morning sickness should start to be declining around this time, although I have to warn you that every woman and every pregnancy is unique, so some women suffer morning sickness throughout their entire pregnancies and others not once. From what you're telling me, you seem to be following a pretty average pattern."

Kathleen looked at her daughter expectantly. "Any questions yet?"

Grace shrugged. "Not that I can think of."

"All right," Dr. Ottavi said, rising from her chair. "Then are we ready to head back for some tests?"

"I know that this first appointment is a little late," Kathleen said as the three women headed for the door. "Will Grace-"

"Don't worry, Mrs. Bowman, we're going to get Grace all caught up on everything she needs before she leaves today, I promise you that." Dr. Ottavi led them down a hallway and opened the door two doors from the end on the left. She waved Grace and Kathleen inside and shut the door behind herself. "I see that you've already filled out our medical information forms while waiting, so I think we can start off with drawing a little blood if that's okay with you."

Grace climbed up onto the bed and laid down. She'd never been nauseated at the sight of blood before – that wouldn't make a very good doctor – but having blood drawn always did make her feel a little woozy and since she'd already experienced that earlier today she didn't want to chance fainting.

"You all right?" Kathleen asked, suddenly standing beside her daughter. She reached over to take Grace's hand.

Grace just nodded as Dr. Ottavi cleaned off the bend in her arm with a alcohol soaked cotton swab. The smell permeated her nostrils and she swallowed down a creeping feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Just relax," Dr. Ottavi assured, massaging the skin of her arm a bit. "Now you're going to feel a little pinch…"

Grace winced as the needle pierced her skin and settled deep into her vein. She kept her eyes closed. Once the pain had subsided, she couldn't feel the blood draining away even though every time she had blood drawn she somehow expected that she would. As she kept her eyes closed, images began to impose themselves on her thoughts: flashes of blood spattered sheets, dried blood flecking away on clothes, and pink water swirling down the drain. She jerked at the images and her eyes opened in time to see the vial filling up with blood.

"Grace," Dr. Ottavi warned, "I'm going to need you to lie still."

The teenager focused her attention on the white ceiling. She couldn't look at what was happening to her and she couldn't keep her eyes closed so instead she tried to remove herself from the situation, thinking back to when she'd been at Adrian's first appointment. They'd drawn blood then too and Grace tried to mimic the cool and collected way Adrian had taken the procedure.

"Okay, we're all done with that," Dr. Ottavi announced.

But Grace continued to lay there as the doctor pressed a band-aid to her arm and moved around, doing something or other with the blood she'd drawn in Grace's peripheral view. When she tried to get up a wave of dizziness swept over her and her vision clouded with pinprick black dots her head began to feel heavy. The sounds in the room disappeared and all she could hear was her own labored breathing before that, too, gave way to silence, the type that a person experiences when the blood rushes to your ears. She suddenly felt her mother's hands on her shoulders, easing her back into a laying position, and Grace let her lids close halfway.

"She's never been good with getting her blood drawn," Kathleen explained.

Grace studied her mother's mouth, but she couldn't lip read and even if she could, she figured she would've been too out of it to do that just then anyway. She contended to stay as still as possible until the thrumming silence in her ears evaporated. All she could think about were Dr. Ottavi's words: _all done_.

But how much was left to come?


	9. Sicken Little

**A/N: **Yeah, it's really me updating, this is not a mirage. (I hope this chapter isn't as bad as I think it is. I dunno, I've been in a bad mood for weeks, so that may have bled through.) And in the time I wasn't updating, I heard the show finally got axed? Can't say that I'm at all surprised. (Warning, this is an "R" rated chapter for language and some themes.)

_**Turning Tables**_

**Sicken Little**

"Fag."

"Cocksucker."

"Apparently 'abomination' runs is in the genes. All of his brothers are queer and his cousin's a rapist! I wouldn't want him as my little brother's Boy Scout Leader."

"That's like saying straight men can't be teachers because they'll have sex with every female student they see and that's _ridiculous_. Just because someone is gay doesn't mean he is attracted to every male he lays eyes on." Griffin looked the basketball player up and down. "I'm certainly not attracted to _you_."

The jock grabbed Griffin by the shoulders and shoved him against the lockers. "Shut the fuck up! You have no right to talk to me that way!"

"_You_ have no right to talk to _him_ that way!"

"Grace, are you seriously defending this_ scum_–" he flicked Griffin in the chest "–after what his cousin–"

"Step away from him, Charlie." Grace calmly retrieved her cell phone from her purse and pointed it at him. "Leave him alone or I'll get someone who won't be as polite as myself."

Charlie scowled at Grace. He looked to his two teammates who seemed to shrug with their eyes. Finally he let his shoulders fall and motioned to the two other boys to leave. "You're making a mistake, Grace."

Grace grit her teeth as she watched the three basketball jocks disappear around the corner. She was pretty sure she'd seen Charlie mouth something to Griffin before he'd left, but she couldn't prove it. "Are you okay?"

Griffin rubbed the shoulder that had hit the lockers when Charlie had pushed him. "Fine." He glanced down the hallway again. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, I _did_. Come on, we need to go tell someone–"

"_No."_

Grace stared at him like she'd just walked into a brick wall. "Griffin, they won't stop-"

"They've been harassing me all year, it's nothing new."

"So why don't you tell someone?"

"I used to and it never made any difference."

"At your middle school?"

"Yeah."

"Well this is high school," Grace argued. "What about Mr. Molina? You can talk to him!"

"Isn't that a bit hypocritical of you?" Griffin shot back. "You know, for someone who ran away instead of going to the police?"

Grace winced. "That's _low_."

"But I'm not wrong, am I?"

"No. But because of my stupidity then, I know it was a mistake not to go to the authorities in the first place."

Griffin nodded and rubbed his shoulder again. "Look, I'm sorry about what Gr – _he_ – did to you. If I'd known I –" He looked down at his shoes. "I know how shallow that sounds and how much of a difference it_ doesn't_ make. But none of that has anything to do with those guys and me. It's my business, not yours, Grace. So please, just – just _leave it_."

Grace could only watch as he walked away. She felt like a pair of beater bars had been turned on inside her stomach. Clutching her abdomen, she raced to the bathroom and only managed to get to the garbage bin meant for the used paper towels. The contents of her breakfast – two vanilla yogurts and a granola bar – spattered across the walls of the bin and the fluff of partially wet brown paper towels. She thought it looked a bit like chunky cake batter and that thought only made her sick all over again.

When there was nothing else left for her stomach to throw out, Grace braced herself against the edge of the trashcan and realized there were a few girls standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at her as if she were some kind of train wreck to rubberneck. She was ready to say just what she thought of that when Mrs. Doonan pushed through the throng.

"What is everyone doing here? This is a safety hazard. Either use the bathroom or le-" She stopped abruptly when she laid eyes on Grace. She lifted her had slightly to her mouth, attempting to covertly cover her nose. "Everyone, leave. This bathroom is closed, you can use the one on the next floor if you need to." She hurriedly shooed everyone away until it was just her and Grace left.

Grace had never had Mrs. Doonan and therefore didn't know her personally, but she recognized her as Ben and Amy's monster of a biology teacher. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "I'll get this cleaned up-"

Mrs. Doonan shook her head and moved to the trashcan. "I'll get a janitor in here. You just clean yourself up and worry about getting to class on time."

Puzzled, Grace continued to just stand and stare at the woman as she uncurled the trash bag from the edges of the can and tied it off in a knot. It wasn't until Mrs. Doonan was done and realized that Grace hadn't moved a muscle that Grace finally retreated to the sink to rinse her mouth and wash her hands. She brushed her hands against her baby doll top and moved hastily to the door, pausing only to offer a quiet, "Thank you."

Mrs. Doonan waved her off. "It's my job," she said. But her face betrayed her stoic tone.

Grace ducked out of the bathroom and scurried down the hall and out the front doors, winding her way to the stone steps. She sat down on the top step and curled over, holding her stomach. The past few mornings she'd taken her mother's suggestion about eating cold and mostly scentless foods to heart. It usually worked, unless something else upset her stomach. Like someone else's lunch or stress or her attacker's cousin.

"Grace, what are you doing out here?"

The blonde's head shot up at the sound of Ricky's voice. "Hey," she squeaked. "Just – just a little nauseous."

Ricky sat down next to her. "Are you all right?" He placed his hand against her back.

Grace swallowed back the acrid taste of bile. "Yeah, yeah. I just needed a little fresh air." She quirked an eyebrow. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I just got back from the courthouse." Ricky bowed his head. "Adrian told me that she told you about Heather."

"Don't be mad at her. I knew something was up before I confronted her about the details." She absently rubbed her stomach. "Have you seen her?"

"No, but the judge granted my parents' request for temporary custody."

"That's great!"

Ricky nodded. "I wanted to be there when they got the news." He combed his fingers through his hair. "I'm taking the day off from school to help set up her room tomorrow and then they're bringing her home this weekend. My mom thinks it'd be better if I just wait at home while they get her."

Grace nodded understandingly. "I think she's probably right. No offense."

"She usually is," Ricky said, rolling his eyes.

"Well maybe when she's settled in, I could stop by? I'd really like to see her." Grace gazed into her lap. "I'd bring her some cookies or brownies or something, but…"

Ricky rubbed Grace's back. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure she'd love to see you whenever she settles in."

"As long as she's not in a bitey mood I'm probably good, huh?" she said, looking at scabs on the drummer's arm.

"You know what? Why don't you call me before you decide to come over, okay?"

Grace grinned a bit. Somewhere in the background she heard the bell for passing period and groaned inwardly. As she started to push herself up she realized Ricky was offering his hand and Grace gladly accepted.

"I'll see you later, all right?"

"Tell her hi for me."

"I will."

Grace collected herself as Ricky walked away and then headed for class.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian looked up from her test again. She was an excellent test taker, particularly on short answer and essay questions, but not today. She found herself lifting her head to check the time every few minutes and now the class period was nearly over but her test was still half incomplete. She cursed under her breath.

She had been off her game all week long and although she tried not to think about it, she was pretty sure it had everything to do with her boyfriend; her very suddenly and inexplicably _distant _boyfriend. Frustrated, Adrian pressed down harder on her pencil. Right in the middle of looping a _g_ the lead snapped. "Damnit!"

"Ms. Lee?"

Adrian lifted her head and found several pairs of eyes silently staring back at her, including the teacher's; some amused, some annoyed, some surprised, and some just looking for a distraction. She smiled weakly and held up her broken pencil. "Lead broke." She stood and quickly swerved through the desks to get to the electric pencil sharpener. As soon as she put the pencil inside it began to snarl like a Rottweiler chained behind a fence. More eyes turned towards her so she kept her head down, checking the pencil every ten seconds or so to see if it was sufficiently sharpened. A whole minute later she returned to her desk, attempted to finish the _g_ where she'd left off, but ended up erasing and rewriting it anyway.

Two-and-a-half short answer questions later, when almost everyone else was laying their tests on the teacher's desk, Adrian was still at her seat, hurriedly attempting to finish the question she was answering. There was only one other student with her, a girl by the name of Marissa that always ended up staying in her seat until she was verbally instructed that time was up. Before now, Adrian had always wondered how it was impossible for her not to finish in time. Now she felt bad for those condescending thoughts.

"Time, ladies."

The Latina growled under her breath and quickly drilled a period onto the page. She took her time getting her backpack and purse together and then trudged up behind her classmate and laid her test on the top of the pile, unfinished. The teacher's surprised expression didn't escape her and she merely shrugged. Her saving grace was the fact that the lowest test score was thrown out in this particular class, so as long as she didn't have another off day, she'd probably be fine.

"Of course that depends entirely upon Ben," she muttered, fishing her cell phone out of her purse. Within moments of turning it on it began to flash with a voicemail message. Curious, she pressed the phone to her ear.

"Adrian, it's Leo. I just wanted to let you know that I sent Briella home early today. She thought she might be getting a migraine and I didn't want to chance it getting worse. I know that Ben said he was supposed to go study at Amy's after work this evening, but I have a birthday party to cater so I can't stay home with Mercy. I've left a message for him as well, so between the two of you, please let me know what we can work out as soon as possible. Thank you. Bye."

Adrian rubbed her forehead as she arrived at the door of her next class. The electronic voice on the other end of the line informed her that she'd saved Leo's message. She quickly hit her speed dial for Ben and found that it went straight to voicemail. Typical, given that it was only passing period and she knew he rarely turned his phone on until lunch. "Ben, you'll probably get this after your hear your dad's message, so you know why we need to talk. Meet me at the entrance to the cafeteria. I have to go!" As she moved to drop her phone back into her purse someone bumped into her arm and it slipped, smacking screen down on the ground.

"Sorry."

Adrian rolled her eyes as she bent down to grab her cell. There was now a zigzagging scratch on the face of the screen. She attempted to wipe it on the edge of her shirt but it didn't help to buffer it. "Great. I hope the damage is only cosmetic." She shoved the phone into her purse and hurried inside, plopping herself down just as the bell rang to end passing period.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Missing something?" Amy asked as she took her seat beside her lab partner and laid a key on the table in front of him.

Ben paled. "Where did you get this?"

"I saw you drop it on your way into class," Amy said while she yanked her textbook out of her backpack. "Why, was I not supposed to see it or something?" she laughed.

Ben pocketed the key. "Thanks."

Amy narrowed her eyes. "You're really touchy this week, you know that? What does that key go to, anyway?"

Ben focused on finding the right page in his textbook. "It's just a key," he answered dismissively.

"Oookay then." Amy located the review questions at the end of their assigned chapter and proceeded to tear a sheet of paper out of her binder to copy down the numbers. "Hey, about studying tonight-"

"I can't make it."

"What?" Amy blinked. "Why?"

"I have to babysit Mercy."

"Oh."

"Sorry. It was completely unexpected, I'm sorry." Ben honed in on the study questions. "Can we reschedule for the thirty-first?" he asked without looking at her.

"I – I guess. Are you sure that's all that's going on?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Amy lifted her shoulders up and down. "You just seem…preoccupied lately, I don't know."

"Come on, Amy. You've never had a couple stressful weeks before?"

The latter smiled. "Point taken. But you can't blame me for worrying. We are friends, after all."

Ben smiled. "And lab partners too. Lab partners with failing grades unless we get this done." He tapped the first question with the tip of his pencil. He held his cheerful expression until Amy looked down at the page and then he let out a quiet breath as he slipped his hand into his pocket and gently fingered the key he had apparently dropped.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's not for you," Ashley said in her trademark monotone. "It's for Heather."

Ricky stared at the box in his hands. It was square and judging by the size, probably large enough to contain a soccer ball, but it was wrapped in simple brown paper packaging, like the kind you find stuffed inside purses to show much they can hold. "What's in it?"

"A care package."

"When did you have time to put a care package together?"

"Last night."

"You didn't even know if my parents were going to get the okay for Heather to live with us last night."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "I know your mom, Ricky. _Of course_ they were going to get the okay. I was just a matter of when it would become official."

"Can I shake it?"

"Why not?"

Ricky rattled the box. Inside he heard padded thumps. "Are you going to leave me hanging here?"

"You really want to know?"

Ricky nodded.

"Midol, tampons, a couple of DVDs, and one end of a walkie talkie."

"A walkie talkie, really?"

"No, of course not," Ashley snorted. "It's a box of Oreos."

"I can never tell when you're joking."

Ashley slugged his arm. "Just make sure she gets that, okay?"

"Ya got time to walk with me? We can go put it in my car."

"I have nothing better to do. What do you need to talk about?"

"What do mean?"

"Just what I said. I know you well enough to know when you need to talk, so spill."

"I'm not regretting my decision for Heather to live with us," he prefaced, "but I'm just worried."

"About?"

"Do I need to spell it out for you? We're friends. We're not siblings or anything. It's different when you live with people. I should know, I bounced around fosters enough before I landed with Margaret and Shakur. Sometimes things happen after you live with people that you weren't expecting."

"Like what? You afraid you'll end up in bed with her?"

Ricky snorted. "Because we meaninglessly flirt with each other? Or, we did, before she bit the hell out of me."

"You're more kinky than I thought."

"Ash!"

Ashley stuffed her hand into his pocket to retrieve his key ring when they neared his parking space. She hit the button to disarm the alarm and then popped the trunk with another button. "You clearly can't take a joke. I know you don't have any interest in each other, not like _that_. But I get what you're saying. That's why I made the care package. I mean, think of it from her point of view: she's being forced to come live with her friend who she last saw when she bit him and his foster parents. There are no other kids in the house, nor any other women sans Margaret. Plus, she has already adjusted to being independent for nearly a year. Not to mention the depression and the drinking on top of it; not easy things to just _get over_. If you think it's going to be awkward for you, well, _get in line_."

Ricky pushed the trunk down and slipped the keys back from Ashley's hands. The car made a beeping noise as the alarm reactivated. "You've got a point."

"I always do."

Ricky slid his arm around her shoulders and paused in the middle of the parking lot to pull her into a little hug. "Yeah, you do."

Ashley hugged him back. "I really miss her. And I know it's not going to happen anytime soon, but I really miss our trio."

"I'll talk to my mom tonight. Maybe you can come over this weekend?"

"I promised my mom I'd help clean the house. And by 'promised' I mean I agreed at knife point. But, for Heather, she might make an exception. Give me a call and I'll see what strings I can pull. In the meantime," she checked her cell phone, "what d'ya have for lunch?"

"You don't have a lunch today?"

Ashley looked away from him. "Of course I did. I just left it on the kitchen counter. It's no biggie, if you don't have anything-"

"It's cool," Ricky cut in, attempting to keep the sound of his suspicion out of his voice. "My dad gave me a ten to get breakfast on the way to school this morning but I didn't have time. We can go raid the snack cart." He produced the ten dollar bill from his wallet as proof and noted the smile on his friend's face.

From one of the red picnic tables in the outside lunching area, Grace waved to Ricky and Ashley as she saw them heading towards the cafeteria doors. She smiled when they waved back and then returned her attention to her best friend, who was seated beside her. "I don't know what I should do, Adrian. One part of me feels like Griffin has a point. I mean…who am I to judge him? But another part of me feels like I should tell someone. If someone had intervened for me…"

Adrian reached across the table to place her hand on Grace's. "You saw what they did, right?"

"I heard the horrible things they were saying to him and I saw Charlie push him into the lockers."

"Then you're a witness to the harassment. You never had that."

"What if I tell and it gets worse?"

"What if you _don't_ tell and it gets worse?"

Grace loomed over the table, leaning her elbows into the wells of the honeycomb mesh and covering her eyes with her hands. "I feel like it's partly my fault."

"What?"

"Griffin getting harassed…they were talking about him being a rapist's cousin."

"You had to do what's right for you, Grace, and prosecuting Grant is right."

"But Griffin never did anything to me. He doesn't deserve to be punished for being gay and certainly not for who his family is."

"Charlie and his friends chose to be sick, homophobic bigots. You didn't make them do what they did, but you can help to prevent them from doing it again."

Grace rubbed her forehead. "Yeah…I guess I need to go make a visit to Mr. Molina's office." She turned to the Latina and asked after a beat, "Will you come with me?"

"Sure."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

The darkness was closing in around her as Adrian sat in Ben's bedroom with her fingers performing a complicated tango across the keyboard of her laptop. The successive strokes of the keys reminded her of rain hitting a window whenever she allowed her mind to wander just enough from the AP English she was trying to finish on George Orwell's _1984_. She'd been staring at her screen for so long that it hadn't even occurred to her that it was dark until the screen on her cell phone lit up, catching the attention of her peripheral sight.

She saved the document and pushed the laptop aside, giving her strained fingers a quick flex before she grabbed her phone, noting that _Mom_ was flashing across the caller I.D. screen. "Hey," she yawned as she answered the call.

"Are you busy?"

Adrian groaned and slid down the wall until her head was resting on one of Ben's pillows. "This can't be good. What's wrong?"

"My car died and I need you to come pick me up."

Adrian scrunched up her eyes. "What? You can't get a jump?"

"I called roadside assistance and they did try to give me a jump, but it's not working so it must be something other than the battery."

"There's nobody else you could get a ride with?"

"I know you're busy with school work, but –"

"It's not that," Adrian sighed. "Briella went home sick and Mr. Boykewich had a business meeting, so I'm at Ben's watching Mercy. I already put her to bed. In fact," Adrian pulled the phone away from her ear to look at the time, "Ben should've already been back by now!"

"Where is he?"

"Studying at Amy's. They've got some biology research presentation due next week, plus a final that's some ridiculous percentage of their grade. I tried to call him earlier, but his phone was going to voicemail. I'm guessing it must be dead. Or off, though he usually has it on after school. You know what, you're in a safe place, right?"

"I'm in a Wendy's, why?"

"Give me a minute, I'll call you right back." Adrian hung up and hit her speed dial. Once again, Ben's phone went to voicemail. "Ben, where are you? You were supposed to be here a half hour ago. My mom's car broke down and I need to go pick her up. Please, _call me back!_" She hung up, frustrated and verging on punching something. Possibly even Ben himself, if he were to ever show up. As she mulled over what to do, she heard the sound of the front down downstairs. "Thank you!" she murmured to the open air and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Adrian bolted out the door and down the stairs. "I'm so glad you're–" She stopped abruptly when she found not Ben or even Leo, but Camille. "–not Ben."

Camille smiled awkwardly. "Well, no offense to Ben, but so am I." She laughed, but stopped when she realized Adrian wasn't laughing with her. "Okay, bad joke."

"It's not that," Adrian grumbled. "I thought you were Ben. He should've been home by now but he's not. Nor is he answering his phone…and I need to go pick up my mom, but I can't leave Mercy here alone."

"Well, I can watch her if you need me to. I had intended to just drop by and pick up the sales books for the butcher shop, but I don't have anything pressing right now."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"No," Camille laughed. "Not at all. Is she still up?"

"She's asleep. She doesn't wake up much in the middle of the night anymore, but –"

"I understand," Camille nodded. "I made a career out of babysitting when I was your age. She'll be fine."

"Thank you. Thank you!" Adrian said as she ran back up the stairs to grab her purse and coat. She tore through Ben's room collecting her things and then barreled back down the stairs. "And do me a favor: when Ben shows up, kick him for me!"

Camille gave her a mock salute. "Will do."

Adrian slammed the door without meaning to. She realized when she also slammed the door to her own car that she was even more peeved than she originally thought. She called her mother back as she started the engine, quickly filled her in on what was going on, and hung up with the promise to be there in about twenty to thirty minutes. However, before she actually pulled out onto the road, she tried Ben's phone again and, as she figured, was directed to his voicemail. This time, she didn't leave a message. Instead, she made last minute decision to turn the car around and make a right, instead of the left, which would've taken her towards the Wendy's her mother was stuck at.

By what she could only describe as a miracle, Adrian arrived at the curb in front of Amy's house without getting a ticket. She got out of the car with another door slam and charged up the walkway, her heels making sounds like a gunfighter's boots before a showdown on the cement. She climbed onto the lit porch and rapped against the door, waiting impatiently and knocking a second time before she heard noise on the other side. Seconds later the door opened just enough for Adrian to see Amy's face.

"A-Adrian?"

"Where's Ben?"

"What?"

"I want to talk to my boyfriend. Right now."

The door opened a little wider and Amy moved forward to fill the gap in the doorframe. "He's not here."

"How long ago did he leave?"

Amy stared blankly. "He was never here."

"He said you were studying together tonight."

"That was the plan, but he told me today in bio that something came up and he had to babysit Mercy."

Adrian felt her jaw unhinge. She slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder. For the first time, she realized that there was no sign of Ben's car in front of Amy's house or across the street. Between the darkness and her own anger, it had completely slipped her perception. "He wasn't here at all tonight?"

"No. I assumed the two of you were babysitting Mercy together."

"I've been with Mercy myself all night. And my calls keep going straight to his voicemail."

"Mine too. I mean, when I called him earlier this week. He –"

"Usually has his phone on."

"Yeah." Amy nervously pushed her hair behind her ear. "So, if he told me one thing and told you another, then where is he _really_ at?"

"That's a damn good question."


	10. My Boyfriend's Back

**A/N: **Ahhh! So many of you came back even after my not updating for so long! *hugs* Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're fantastic!

_**Turning Tables**_

**My Boyfriend's Back**

"So you're going over to Amy's to study again?"

"Mhmm."

Adrian sat on Ben's bed as he loaded his backpack down with textbooks and notes. "For how long?"

Ben shrugged. "Couple hours, maybe."

"Hmm," Adrian murmured. "Must be some project you've got going on."

At that, Ben grinned. "It is, actually. It definitely is."

Adrian leaned back a little, purposefully angling herself in a suggestive way upon the edge of the bed. "You could always study with me."

Ben stopped tugging the zipper on his backpack and smirked. "I'm afraid I wouldn't get much done in the way of academia."

"I've already been through biology, I could be an asset."

"I know you have," Ben agreed. "And you can be…you will be." He finished zipping his backpack and tossed it over one shoulder. He moved to the edge of the bed and pecked his girlfriend on the lips. "But not today."

Adrian waited until he'd exited the room and listened cautiously until she heard the front door open and shut downstairs. She waited to make sure that he wasn't coming back up for anything he'd forgotten and when she was satisfied she draped herself across the bed and reached for her laptop which was seated on one of the pillows. "If that's the way you want to play it, _fine._" She opened the laptop and typed in a website. A beat later the page loaded and the header read: _Locate Your Phone For Free!_ Adrian clicked on the log in button, entered her username and password information, and when the page loaded again she found herself staring at a digital map with a blinking red dot. She set her laptop back onto the pillow and made herself comfortable in front of the screen, as though she were getting ready to watch a movie before bed, and _waited_.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"You know, this kind of reminds of when we all got together to revamp Heather's place the first time," Grace said as she sprayed a mirror with some Windex and proceeded to wipe it down to a streak free shine.

"If I recall, it was just Ricky and I the first time."

Ricky shot Ashley a dark look.

"I know, but I just mean the group effort part of it. I really like that, it feels good to help someone else. It still kills me that I couldn't bake something though." She glanced at Ricky. "Thanks for letting me help put the finishing touches on her room though."

"We're thankful for the help," Ricky said, keeping an eye on the brunette.

"Do you think she'll like it?"

The room had been repainted a lime green color on Friday and then Grace had drawn up and cut out a couple different shaped flower stencils which Ashley and Ricky had used to paint clusters of dark purple flowers about the walls. It wasn't exactly what Ricky would've chosen, but it was certainly Heather: her favorite colors being purple and lime green, in that order. His first thought had been to do the room in purple, but Ashley and his parents had vetoed the idea, citing that it would make the room too dark and closed in. To compromise, it had been accented with it instead: new sheer purple curtains had been installed and Margaret had purchased brand new bedding for the bed that George had given to Heather previously, which was a plush triple digit thread count in the same deep grape color. The dressers and nightstands – which had not been used regularly in years – had also been given a fresh repaint, in a bright white, which added a clean cut feeling to the room.

Ricky stood in the middle of the room, staring at the walls. "I think so."

Grace clasped her hands together, looking quite pleased with herself. She draped the rag she'd been using over the head of the Windex bottle and set it outside the bedroom door. Then she dug into a plastic bag and pulled out a long, rectangular box that she carried over to one of the tall white dressers and carefully unloaded a purple lava lamp. She plugged it in, tucked the wire behind the dresser, and then stepped back to admire its placement, imagining what it might look like when the lava had actually had a chance to heat up and get moving. "I think that'll do."

Ashley looked at her phone. "Isn't she supposed to be here in about fifteen minutes?"

"I should probably make like Mary Poppins and spit spot." Grace exchange a hug with Ricky and offered Ashley a warm smile. "I'll see you both later!"

"Drive safe, Grace."

"I will."

Ricky made a few rotations in the center of the room. "It's hard to believe this is the same room. You know, this was my first room when I first came to live here."

Ashley moved to Ricky's side. "You never mentioned that."

Ricky nodded. "Yeah. But back then I shared it with another boy who was seventeen at the time. I don't even remember his name…just that he left as soon as he was eighteen. I had the room to myself for a while, until Ethan came to live with us. Eventually there was probably about a year when things got really crazy and there were four of us here at the same time. I was the oldest at that point and Ethan and I were driving each other crazy, so Margaret and Shakur eventually converted the basement into another room and said I could have first pick of which room I wanted."

"And you chose the basement because it was most secluded?"

"That and I could play the drums down there without getting bitched at."

Ashley chuckled. "How did they end up with just you?"

"One of the girls turned eighteen, another was moved to a different foster, and Ethan…Ethan just had some problems."

"And by 'some' you actually mean…"

"I don't know if there is a number adequate."

"Wow. Sounds like someone else I know. No wonder the two of you didn't get along."

"I'm going to ignore that," Ricky said, turning to look at the mirror. "I guess after he left, Margaret and Shakur were just a little too burnt out to bring in anymore newbies. Which was nice for me. They eventually converted the girls' room into an office and this one into a spare bedroom, but we rarely have company."

"Hence the dust that was practically begging for me to write 'Wash me!' in it."

"Practically?" he smirked. "Don't think I didn't see you actually do it before you dusted down that nightstand earlier."

"I have no idea what you're talking about it."

Ricky slid his arm around Ashley's shoulders. "Thanks for your help, Ash."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Have you heard back from the auto shop about your car yet?" Adrian asked while standing over her daughter, changing a particularly ripe diaper. A few times she even had to turn her head away to bury her nose in her shoulder.

"I got a call about an hour ago," Cindy called from the other room. "They said that the float in my gas tank was stuck so it was registering that I still had a half a tank of gas when I'd actually run completely out."

"Well that's good, right? It means we don't need any new parts or, god forbid, a new car."

"I suppose."

Adrian frowned. "Well how much is it going to cost?"

"That remains to be seen."

Adrian tucked the brown wipes into the dirty diaper and chucked the whole foul load into the diaper genie. She quickly powdered up her daughter and fastened a fresh diaper on her, then sat her up right. "There you go," she grinned before kissing the little girl's forehead. "Are you ready to chill with_ Abuelita_ for a while?"

Mercy held out her arms, signaling that she wanted to be picked up. When Adrian complied she cooed and began to run her fingers through her mother's hair.

Adrian carried her out into the living room and deposited the child in her playpen. "Okay, she's all changed and fed, so she should be good for a while."

Cindy looked at her daughter from over the crock pot where she was tossing chunks of potato, sweet onions, celery, carrots, and cabbage into. "Where are you off to, by the way?"

Adrian smiled slightly. "Just off to run an errand. I promise I won't be more than a couple hours. Thanks again for watching Mercy!"

Cindy set the lid on the crock pot and nodded. "Okay, fine, I can take a hint," she said with a hint of sarcasm. "If you don't want to tell me where you're going…"

Adrian blew her mother a kiss. "I'll talk to you about it later." As she slid on her jacket she added under her breath, _"Maybe." _She then blew another kiss to Mercy who attempted to copy the gesture, but ended up spitting on her hands more than anything else. Adrian laughed and made a point of pretending to catch the slobbery kiss before waving goodbye to her mother and daughter and slipping out the door.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

The Sunday paper was sitting in its usual plastic bag in the grass when Grace got home. She cut across the lawn to collect it and went inside through the front door. It was still a little cold and damp from the sprinklers so she wiped it off on her pant leg as she walked into the kitchen and shook it out of the bag onto the tabletop. Armed with a pair of scissors from the top drawer, she sat down at the table and began to flip through the paper, looking for the Sunday coupons.

A few pages in she noticed a familiar face on the pair of scissors clattered to the floor. Staring back at her from the newspaper was Grant's face. The nausea came so fast she barely had time to make it to the kitchen sink. She stood there for at least ten minutes after the dry heaving stopped, before she mustered the courage to return to the table and inspect the contents of the article. She made a point of grabbing a piece of junk mail and setting it over Grant's picture so she wouldn't have to look at it.

Grace plodded through the article. It was mostly a summary piece consisting of bits and pieces of information she already knew. The only new thing was a quote apparently from Vic Volberg, insisting on his son's innocence and mentioning that he and his wife would be find a lawyer if they had to, to ensure that their son's good name stayed clean.

He was no Leo Boykewich, but Grace knew Mr. Volberg was still relatively wealthy. The kind of lawyer that he could likely afford made her shiver, especially when she considered the horror stories about hung juries and rapists found innocent that she'd heard in group back in San Francisco. Although she wasn't the one on trial – not in the technical sense – the question of whether she needed her own lawyer flitted through her head. All of the sudden she had the urge to call her mother and was reaching for her cell phone to do exactly that until she remember that her mother and her brother were both still in church, a place she hadn't been prepared to visit just yet.

A few minutes later Grace found herself in the living room, seated on the red and gold striped sofa that reminded her of a piece of hard Christmas candy. She had her cell phone in one hand and carefully punched in a series of numbers that she had memorized. When the phone began to ring she pressed it to her ear and waited, almost expecting to get an answering machine until she heard a click after the fourth ring, followed by a familiar voice. She smiled faintly. "Vera? It's Grace. I – I was just wondering how you were…and if you might have a few minutes to talk?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky hung outside Heather's new bedroom door. It was shut and he could vaguely hear the muffled sounds of talking and maybe even a little crying filtering from the other side. He had yet to see Heather and that had been a last minute decision on his part, to hide in his basement room when his parents had brought Heather inside and shown her up to her room, where Ashley was waiting. After what had happened the last time he'd seen her, he thought that her seeing Ashley first might be a bit easier to swallow.

He stood, pacing back and forth, repeatedly raising his hand towards the door with his fist poised to knock, before pulling it back: knock? Talk? Or just wait until the door opens? He couldn't make up his mind and finally the decision was made for him when the door swung open and he found Ashley and Heather on the other side.

"Are you coming in or not?" Ashley asked bluntly.

"How did you –"

"We've been watching your shadow sweep under the door for the last three minutes," Heather cut in sheepishly.

Ricky bowed his head. "Right. I forgot about that. It's way too wide at the bottom, isn't it?"

Heather turned away from him, not indulging herself in their usual banter. "This is a nice room. Ash says everyone pitched in to put it together for me."

"Ricky was the one who picked the colors," Ashley added.

Heather glanced over her shoulder at him. "I guess I owe you a thank you then."

Ricky shook his head. "It was…you know."

Heather nodded. Her eyes wandered to his arm and lingered on the bite shaped scabs.

Ashley reached to touch the redhead's arm. "I'll be downstairs."

"Ash–"

"Nope, don't try to use me as your excuse to avoid your issues. The two of you can come find me when you're ready and not before."

Heather scuffed the heels of her sneakers together as Ashley shut the door. She shuffled backwards across the carpet until the backs of her legs hit the new comforter on her bed and she sat down on the edge of bed. "I guess you're probably expecting an apology."

"Not really."

Heather quirked a brow. "Why not?"

"I try not to expect things. You don't get let down as often. Besides, why should I expect an apology from you when there are plenty of people I should've apologized to and never did back when I was…" He hesitated to say in foster care because she wasn't. Or in the same situation, because that was light years from the truth; even a _similar_ situation didn't quite cut the mustard. "…displaced."

"I'm not a charity case."

"No one ever said you were."

"No one had to. Taking me in says enough."

"Margaret and Shakur didn't take you in as charity." Ricky felt his insides harden. "And I don't want to_ ever_ hear you say that again!" The sound of his words felt foreign in his ears. The last thing he'd expected upon seeing Heather today was to chastise her.

Heather sat upright, appearing a little stunned.

"Do you understand me?"

She mutely nodded.

Ricky could see that she was just as surprised as he was and he immediately felt remorseful; not for the things he'd said, but for the fear in his friend's eyes. His muscles relaxed. "Heather," he tried again, "Margaret and Shakur are good people. Don't you know that by now? Nobody's perfect, but they're as close to selfless as humans get, the way I see it. They take the worst of us in, not so they can get some kind of perverted glory out of it, but because they think we deserve a chance just like any other kid."

"In another year that'll be a moot point."

"A year is a year. A lot can happen, we both know that." Ricky inched towards the bed. "That's why you started drinking in the first place."

Heather turned her head away. She noticed the lava lamp on the dresser. The fist-sized globules of purple goo were now moving in an elliptical pattern in the glass jar. "I guess you could say I thought she deserved a chance just like any other kid. I just didn't realize it would be so hard. I'm not a total idiot, I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I thought each day without her would be like an open wound healing up. Instead, that wound just got infected."

"I would have listened, if you wanted to talk."

"Sometimes I did, but I didn't want to have to be the one to bring it up because I didn't know how to broach it without coming off sounding…I don't even know. Needy? Clingy? Sometimes I wished someone else would say something that might provide me a segue into what I was feeling. When that never happened, I eventually bummed a beer off one of my coworkers and got a buzz and for just a little while it took the edge off. The next thing you know, I'm almost done with a six pack and then I've got a hangover on top of all these feelings and I need even more beers to get rid of that!"

"Sex was my beer. But the orgasm wasn't just a buzz, it was also the control. When I was screwing someone, I got to be in control in the way that I never was under Bob." He let the double meaning hang between them for a while. "It wasn't just domination of another person, either. It was the control of my own life and, more importantly, my own body. That's what made the girls like Amy and Grace so desirable."

"Because, being inexperienced, they couldn't make you feel anything?"

"Yeah."

"And then along comes Adrian?"

"I knew I shouldn't have gotten involved with her. She was not just experienced, but she was _me_. Female Me. She was _too_ experienced. Sexually. And emotionally." He suddenly stopped himself and shook his head. "But why am I talking about me? Selfish old me, I guess I can't ever totally shake that, can I?"

"You're doing it again."

Ricky smiled. "Now_ that's_ something Heather would say. Welcome back. Welcome – home."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Grace?"

The blonde started at the sound of the voice. She turned to see Reverend Stone behind her. She smiled awkwardly. "Hi."

"I – I didn't see you during the service, I thought your mother said –"

"I wasn't there." She looked down, ashamed. "I haven't really felt up to coming to church since I've been back, I'm sorry."

"I understand." Reverend Stone motioned to the altar. "Take whatever time you need, I'll leave you to your privacy."

"Thank you."

"Although – and I don't mean to sound pushy – but I would love to see you on a Sunday again, before the end of the school year. That's when I'll be leaving –"

"I know, the new job in Phoenix. I remember." Grace nodded. "I'll see what I can do." She waited until she heard his footsteps recede into the next room and then padded up to the steps at the front of the church. She tilted her head back to look at the crucifixion. Although her group meetings had taken place in a church, that is, the church had lent them the room when they weren't using it in the same way that they allowed other groups like alcoholics anonymous and narcotics anonymous groups use their facilities, it hadn't been a religiously organized group.

In the time between the assault and now, her faith had taken a beating. It wasn't as if she didn't believe anymore, but she couldn't understand how her God could be so cruel. "I spent my whole life trying to be a good Christian," she said. Her words echoed in the empty, cavernous room. "I know I'm not perfect, but I've always tried so hard. And it's not as if I even expected to have some kind of grandiose reward for my actions, but I _didn't _expect to be punished for them either. How can You take away my father and then nine months later allow Grant to do what he did to me? What did I do so wrong to deserve that?"

She felt the tears descend. In less than two weeks it would already be a year since her father's passing and she could scarcely believe that much time had passed. A major factor in her decision to go to the Young Healers Camp in the first place was in honor of her father. "It was supposed to be a _good_ thing!" she shouted. "And if I'd never gone there none of this would've happened! I wouldn't have gotten involved with Grant, I wouldn't have been raped, I wouldn't have run away, and I wouldn't be pregnant!" She suddenly kicked the stairs and then turned to one of the pews, grabbed one of the Bibles, and threw it at the crucifixion. "This is all Your fault!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

It was the right address because that was undeniably Ben's car parked in the driveway, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was doing there. The block seemed quaint enough and the house even had a sense of déjà vu, but she couldn't pinpoint why. She'd been sitting by the curb for nearly two hours and she could feel her stomach panging with hunger. Moreover, she needed to pee. She'd been waiting to see Ben walk out of the house and she would have been ready to pounce, but it simply wasn't happening.

In the passenger seat, her cell phone began to ring. Adrian peeked at the caller I.D. "Mom," she groaned. It was the second call she'd ignored from her mother and hoped that it wasn't important. She hadn't left a message or sent a follow up text the first time, so Adrian has assumed she was just checking in. She crossed her fingers, hoping that she wouldn't leave a message this time either. "Come on, Ben. Just walk your skinny butt out the door…"

Still, nothing. Her bladder was beginning to weigh on her insides like a balloon filled with liquid lead. She strummed her manicured nails across the rim of the steering wheel and her stomach made a gurgling noise again. Adrian tried not to think about them, but it was inevitable: the times when Ricky wanted to get under Grace's virgin skirt, even though he was still sleeping with her. The fact that they had been sleeping with other people, even when Ricky was the only one Adrian wanted to sleep with. Adrian had always thought of Ben as the anti-Ricky; the kind who would never be anything but monogamous. He seemed like such a bitch slap that he was lying to her and spending hours upon hours at someone else's house.

"Okay, screw covert and skip right to proactive." Adrian grabbed her purse and climbed out of her convertible, slamming the door. The street was a fairly quiet one, so she sauntered across it without seeing a single car, and pounded up the walkway, the heels of her boots like crashing thunder on the pavement. She took a long breath at the front and then thrummed the end of her fist against it. If she'd been a policewoman, she would've wailed on it with the butt of her gun.

For several minutes there was nothing. Then little scuffles could be heard from the other side of the door and it opened to reveal Ben's face. "Adrian!" he squealed. "What are you doing here?!"

Adrian jammed her foot into the doorframe and pushed against the door with the palm of her hand. "Funny, I came to ask you the same question." She thrust the door open, sending Ben stumbling back, and forced her way inside. "Hello!" she bellowed into the house. "Ben's _girlfriend_ is home!"

"What are you doing?" Ben glared, shutting the door.

"Trying to figure out who is here with you."

"Nobody!"

"Really?" Adrian shot back. "Because who spends hours at the same house all week while lying to his girlfriend, his dad, and his study buddy about where he's been?"

"You've been following me?"

"No, not exactly."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means when Mercy and I needed you on Thursday night and you failed to get home on time I went to Amy's – where you told me you would be – and found that you told her you were babysitting our daughter...which was what _I_ had been doing all afternoon. When I asked you how your study night went on Friday, you lied right to my face, Ben! And then you did the same thing on Saturday and again this morning!" Adrian folded her arms across her chest. "Funny thing is, I can lie too. Remember when I said I lost my phone?"

"Yes," he said uneasily.

"Well I 'lost' it in your car. _After_ I downloaded a tracking app. That's how I knew where you've been spending the bulk of your 'study time.' So, are you going to tell me what's really going on here or am I going to have to go through this house to find out myself?"

"That won't be necessary," he sighed. "It's not finished yet. But clearly you need to see it now rather than later."

"See what now?"

Ben offered his hand, but Adrian refused to take it. "Come on, Adrian. Please? Just humor me?"

"After you've been lying to me all week?"

"_Please?"_

Adrian stared at his hand and then reluctantly placed hers into it. "This better be good."

"It is, I promise." Ben stared at her for a little longer. "I'm also gonna need you to close your eyes."

"Excuse me?"

"Adrian, come on."

Adrian huffed, but shut her eyes anyway. She felt Ben wrap an arm around her waist and she tensed, but allowed him to guide her forward anyway. With her eyes closed she suddenly found herself afraid of tripping or smacking into something, even though she knew – or thought she knew – that Ben would never let that happen. Each step seemed like a mile. "Ben, where are we going?"

"Just a few more steps."

She felt him push her to the right, probably to avoid something, and she resisted the urge to reach out and blindly feel for whatever it was. Finally, she felt him stop and she heard a slippery, crunchy sound beneath the toes of her boots. Her nose also tickled. "Ben, do I smell –"

"Open your eyes."

She didn't need to be told twice. As soon as she opened them she found herself staring into a banana crème room. The floor was covered in a plastic tarp and there was a ladder in the center, beside a paint bucket containing the same color as the walls. "You've been painting? Why didn't you just tell me? What's with all the secrecy? I thought you were –"

Ben cut her off with an amused kiss. "There's more!" He grabbed her hand again and tugged her out of the room, down an unfamiliar hall, and threw open the door at the end.

Adrian found herself staring at a bed covered in a dainty floral comforter. The sunlight and a pale breeze was coming through the windows and lighting up the light blue walls and ruffling the white glaze colored curtains. It could almost be a hotel room on the beach. "What is this? What's going on?"

Ben reached into his pocket and produced a key: the same key he'd dropped at school on Thursday. "Welcome home!"

Adrian gave her boyfriend and incredulous look. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you want to live here?" Ben asked, his face perking up like puppy waiting for his mistress to throw a ball. "It's perfect, right?"

Adrian blinked rapidly. "Ben, who's house is this?"

"I showed you the picture, don't you remember?"

"_We're still in high school."_

"_But like you keep saying: you're only in high school for another year."_

"_How could be possibly afford a place in high school if we can't afford a place when we're out of high school?"_

_Ben held up his finger and wagged it excitedly. He flipped open his laptop and held it up to Adrian: the picture on the screen was the front of a quaint looking condominium with Leo, a bushy brunette, and a five-year-old Ben standing in front of it. "That's me and my parents. Any guesses on where this was taken?"_

Adrian thought back to when she'd been sitting across the street in her car. The house had looked so familiar and now she realized why. It had been repainted since the picture Ben showed her had been taken and the front yard had a new landscape, but it was definitely the same house. "Your parents' condo," she said. "But – when did you get your dad to agree to this?" At his silence, her heart fell. "He didn't, did he?"

"Not yet."

"Not yet? Ben! He was very adamant about us not moving in together!"

"That was when he thought I was too much of a little kid to handle it! This is why I've been working on the house by myself! I singlehandedly cleaned every room in the house and I'm in the process of repainting my old bedroom for Mercy, like you just saw. I also paid movers with my own money to take the old furniture out of storage and put it back in the house. I've done everything _by myself_, just like my dad thought I couldn't."

Adrian covered her face with her hand. "Ben…I appreciate what you've done, I really do…but I think you're missing the point. And I don't think you're dad is just going to change his mind when he finds out about this. In fact, he's probably going to be furious!"

Ben shoved the key back into his pocket. "Let him be furious then. He needs to accept that I'm growing up."

"But you're not _grown_ up yet. That's his whole point."

"I can't believe you're taking his side!"

"I'm not taking his side! If we could move our family into this house and take advantage of all the work you've put into it, then I would jump at the chance! But you're thinking fantasy here and I'm thinking realistically. Your dad is going to be _pissed_. It's only going to create more problems between the two of you and I don't want that. He's been so good to us, Ben. And Mercy. He could've been like Heather's parents, or my mom's parents, but he wasn't. And I don't want to jeopardize that."

Ben leaned down to kiss Adrian's cheek. "Just let me handle my dad, okay? You just worry about New York, because when you get back, I'll have everything straightened out."

Adrian watched him walk out the door and heard the crunching of the tarp down the hall. She turned in a half circle to look back at the master bedroom and she hugged herself, hardly feeling any better than she had when she realized Ben had been lying to her in the first place.


	11. Shady Liberty

**A/N: **I completely forgot about an assignment I had, otherwise this would've been up yesterday. Sorry!

_**Turning Tables**_

**Shady Liberty**

"I don't know what Grace thought she heard, but nothing happened."

Grace closed her eyes when Mr. Molina and the school principal turned to look at her. "I know what I heard."

"And what about the physical altercation?"

Grace looked pointedly at Griffin's shoulder.

"Charlie never pushed me into the locker," Griffin said stubbornly.

"Then why don't you lift up your sleeve and prove there isn't a bruise there?" Grace challenged.

"Because I wasn't assaulted so there's nothing to prove."

Mr. Molina exchanged looks with his superior. She shrugged and he nodded. "Griffin, you're free to go."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically. He stood and shot Grace a dark scowl. _"A lot."_

Grace began to rise too.

"Grace, can you stay for a few more minutes?" Mr. Molina asked.

Grace slouched back into her seat and waited until Griffin had left. "He's lying."

"Be that as it may, we can't prove it."

"But can't you do anything based on what I saw?"

Mr. Molina shook his head. "We need Griffin's cooperation."

"That's ridiculous! How can you just stand around while a kid is being bullied when you have an eyewitness?!"

"All we can do is keep an eye out for anymore bullying. If you happen to witness it again, it would be best if you could try to get proof."

"You mean like pictures?"

"Or an audio recording," Mr. Molina nodded. "But until and unless Griffin agrees to make a statement, we're powerless to do anything."

"Yeah, it's not that you don't believe me, you just can't trust me. A lot of good that does." Grace rose from her chair and left without being dismissed. "So much for justice."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"So…here we are." Heather stood staring at the door to her first class. "Does everyone know?"

"No." Ricky was adamant about that fact. "The only students who know are Grace, Ben, and Amy."

"Plus you and Ashley."

"I considered us a given."

"It's too bad we don't have a Memorial Week," she said, referring to the day before which they'd had off for Memorial Day.

"Only eleven more days of school left."

"Easy for you to say Mr. I-Don't-Have-Summer-School."

"If it's any consolation, we can suffer in summer school together."

Heather turned at the sound of Grace's voice. "Hey."

"Long time, no see."

Heather nodded. She made a gesture sliding gesture across her right shoulder. "New haircut," she noted. "Looks like mine, only all yellow and curls. If you're trying to copy me you're doing a terrible job, Bowman."

Grace smiled and offered the redhead a hug. "It's good to see you again, Heather. I, uhm, I'm sorry for –"

"Forgotten," Heather interrupted, holding her hand in a stop position.

Grace noted the fact that she didn't say _forgiven_, but she didn't want to dwell on it so she said just smiled. "So how are things going with the Shakurs?"

"Well it's only been a few days," Heather said. "But they're nice enough."

Ricky rubbed the back of his neck, feeling as though he should give the girls space and excuse himself. "Hey, I need to go drop by the band room, but I'll catch up with you at lunch, okay?"

Heather mouthed _liar_, but rolled her eyes and shooed her hand in the direction of the band room. She waited until he was gone and then she peeked at the door to her classroom again. "Hey, we've still got a few minutes before passing period. You wanna walk?"

Grace nodded. "I was hoping you'd say that."

They walked down the hallway in relative silence at first, then Heather said: "I heard about what happened."

"How could you not?" Grace said dryly. "It's on the television, in the papers, and this school – not to mention this town – has more gossip than a dairy farm has cow patties."

"Well I wish there was something I could say, but I don't think there is. Besides, you're already friends with Adrian, and she was the one who helped me through the latter part of my pregnancy. Not that what either of us went through is on the same scale, mind you. But I'm just saying: if you ever need to vent or anything…you know Ricky's number."

Grace nodded. "Maybe once you get settled in, you, me, and Adrian could get together some time just to chat? I think it might be good for me."

Heather nodded. "Me too."

Grace smiled.

"Speaking of Adrian, I haven't seen her in a while either. Not since around the middle of last month. How's she doing? And Mercy?"

"Really good, actually. Did you hear she got into a summer program in New York?"

"Mhmm." Heather rolled her eyes. "Ricky's really proud of her."

"Who's Ricky proud of?"

Heather lifted an eyebrow as Adrian joined them down the hallway. "You."

"What?"

"We were just talking about you," Grace said.

"All terrible things, I hope."

Heather smirked. "The worst!"

Adrian struck a pose. "Good. I have a reputation as H-B-I-C to keep up, you know."

Grace frowned. "H-B-I-C?"

"Head Bitch In Charge," Heather answered.

"Hey, what are the two of you doing tonight? Maybe we could get together?" Adrian offered. "I know it's not Friday, but we could have a little girls' night in."

"Can't," Heather sighed. "AA meeting. It's court ordered."

"Oh."

"Some other time," Grace said.

The bell to signal the start of passing period chimed and Adrian cursed under her breath. "Call me," she said, directly the comment at Heather. "We'll work something out." As the redhead headed back for her class, Adrian looked to Grace. "What about you? Anything going on tonight?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"You want to come over?"

"Something on your mind."

"Maybe. C'mon, what d'ya say, Blondie?"

"I'll be at your house by six."

"I knew I could count on you, Girlfriend."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I hate school assemblies," Alice complained.

Henry looked to Ben while he pointed his finger to his temple and turned it in circles. "How can you not love getting out of class for an hour?"

"Having the whole student body jammed into a single gymnasium for sixty minutes?" Alice snorted. "The sweat, the smells…you can count me out!"

"Ben, Alice, Henry, over here!"

Ben followed the sound of Grace's voice and saw her seated in the bleachers with her sweater draped over as much of the bleacher strip next to her as it would cover, presumably holding the seats for him. Amy and Heather were already sitting near her, so he waved back and fumbled his way through the bleachers to take a seat beside Grace.

Henry wedged himself into the spot next to Ben.

"Keep moving, Hank. I need a seat too."

"You can always sit on my lap," Henry grinned.

"As much as I'd like to, I'm not up for drawing the attention."

Ben stood up. "Here, you sit next to Henry, I'll go sit on the next row."

"Ben, no-"

"It's fine," Ben said, moving down to the next row in front of Amy. "Care if I bump your feet?" he asked, pointing to where Amy had her yellow jelly shoes balanced on the next bleacher.

Amy slid her feet down. "Fine by me." She looked down the bleacher. "Anyone know what the assembly's about?"

"The Dangers of Drug and Alcohol," Heather said dryly.

Ben turned his head and saw Amy's face flush. He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not and, judging by the look on his friends' faces, neither could Alice, Grace, or Henry.

On the opposite side of the gym, sectioned off for the juniors, Ricky took a seat next to Adrian. "Something on your mind?"

"Why would you think that?"

"You're gazing off into deep space."

"Sorry, I guess this assembly just isn't as stimulating as they'd hoped."

"Heather's convinced it's a school wide dig at her."

"Well it did happen the day she came back and you know how this town is."

"I guess you have a point. But aren't these things supposed to be scheduled in advance?"

Adrian gave a dismissive shrug. "Are you sleeping with Zoe again?"

"What?"

"Well don't look now, but she keeps looking in our direction so I thought I'd ask."

"No. And I don't plan on sleeping with her again. Ever."

Adrian gave him a defensive gesture. "I don't care if you are or if you aren't. I just don't appreciate being gawked at for no reason."

Ricky swept across the crowd and spotted Zoe looking his way. He almost thought her face looked a little quizzical, but he shot off a warning glare anyway. Some test images began to project onto the far wall. "How's Mercy?" he asked casually.

"What's with the small talk?"

"Just being nice."

Adrian opened her mouth to make a retort, but thought better of it. "How's it going living with Heather? She mentioned she's got an AA meeting."

"Yeah, I'm going with her. I've gone with Nora a couple times, so I figure it's the least I can do. It's down at the church, actually; the same place that I went to with Nora for the first time."

Adrian's distraction dissipated momentarily and she smiled at him. "You know, I'm proud of you, Ricky."

"Yeah," he said, too quietly for her to hear. "The feeling's mutual."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Whatcha got on your mind, kid?"

Ben had a feather duster in hand and was using it to sweep off one of the displays. It wasn't actually part of his job, but it was busy work that he'd opted to do since it was a slow consultation day. At the sound of Bunny's voice he turned to her while his hand continued to flick back and forth over the boxes. "Just thinking about summer."

"You're going to have the baby all summer," Bunny said. "Are you ready for that?"

"I've been taking care of her for a year, what's one summer?"

"One summer without Adrian."

Ben shrugged. "I would've had her last summer if Adrian hadn't agreed to go to Italy with us at the last minute. I was ready then and I'm more than ready now."

Bunny nodded as the bell above the door rang, announcing one of their regulars. She put on a flashy smile. "I've got your order in the back, Mr. Wen."

Ben waved to the older Chinese gentleman. _"Ni hao."_

"_Ni hao!"_ Mr. Wen responded cheerfully. "Catching up on your Chinese, Benjamin? Good boy."

"Here we are!" Bunny announced, returning from the refrigerator in the back. She rung it up at the register and factored in a small discount, something that they offered to long time customers as a courtesy.

"Thank you, Bunny."

"Our pleasure. And Mr. Boykewich said to tell you hello for him the next time you were in."

"Send my regards." Mr. Wen tipped his hand to her, then Ben, and then was on his way out the door again.

Once Mr. Wen's car had pulled away Bunny looked to the teenager again. "Sure there's nothing on your mind?"

Ben hesitated. "Did my dad ask you to talk to me or something?"

"I may work for your father, but I am an independent being capable of my own thought."

Ben winced and scoured his mind for a way to smooth over the situation. "Bunny, can I ask you something?"

"Depends what it is."

"It's kind of personal."

"Well, ask it then and we'll see."

Ben set the duster down and cleared his throat. "You have kids right?"

"I've mentioned that a time or two, yes."

"And a husband?"

"The best. Almost. I do him one better, but he's pretty good, all things considered." She winked in that cheeky way only Bunny could do.

"So…when you and Mr. Bunny started living together, what was it like? And how did your families cope?"

Bunny frowned and wandered out from behind the counter. "I think I see where this is going." She took a seat at one of the tables and snapped her fingers for Ben to do the same. "I'll tell you this much, Benjamin: Mr. Bunny and I moved in together before we were married, but both of us had already graduated college by that time, and we were mature enough to handle living together."

"Did you meet him in college?"

"I did, actually." Bunny gave him a pointed look. "And that's on a very different level than meeting someone in high school. Or before high school." She folded her arms. "I know about the fight you had with your father a few months back and for what it's worth, he's right. You may be a father, but you still need to be a kid before you can be an adult."

"I think if two people are meant to be together, it doesn't matter if they're kids or adults. They'll find a way."

"Well…" She licked her lips, as if trying to decide whether it was worth her time to argue the point or not. "…the same can't be said for the work around here." She snapped her fingers again. "So up and at it: there's a floor that needs sweeping in the back and a load of gift baskets that need to be packaged. Since you don't have any customers right now, you can take your pick."

Ben cringed at the thought of the gift baskets, but at least Bunny seemed to have forgotten his remark about playing spy for his father. "I'll get the broom."

"Wise choice, Cinderella."

Ben grabbed the duster as he skittered into the back. He checked the time in the break room: only forty-two minutes until his shift was over and it seemed like an eternity.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"_Hola, Chica._ You're home late."

"Didn't you get my texts? I said I needed to drop by the library for some books on my research paper."

Cindy shook her head. "My phone's been acting up lately. Marin," she said, referring to a fellow flight attendant, "said she sent me a text the other day but I never got it. Guess I'll have to take it in."

"Well that's what you pay the phone insurance for." The teenager moved into the kitchen and her mother followed.

"So how was school?"

Adrian bent down in front of the open fridge, searching for the leftover pot roast. "We had a rousing drug and alcohol PSA," she replied with oozing sarcasm.

Cindy smiled as she came into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bowls from the drainer. "I feel blessed that you never got into any of that."

Adrian set the leftovers on the table, pulled the lid, and began to ladle it into the bowls her mother had set down. "No, just sex and unplanned pregnancies."

"Pregnanc_ies_?" she asked, somewhat amused.

"You know what I meant."

"My point is that there are a lot worse things that can happen than a pregnancy. Of course I didn't want you to ever have to go what I went through, but –"

"Better pregnant than dead or scarred for life?"

Cindy took the two now full bowls and set them in the microwave. After she'd set the time she turned to look across the room at Mercy playing in her playpen. "I'm not sure if that's a very fair way to put it, but yes, essentially. I'm not trying to sound mean, but look at Heather; I much prefer your situation to hers. Or…Grace's."

Adrian returned the leftovers to the fridge and bopped it shut with her hip. "Me too," she said distantly.

"Something on your mind, _Chica_?"

"That's a popular question today. Did you and Ricky trade notes or something?" At her mother's unamused expression she allowed her mental walls to crumble just a bit. "Yeah," she admitted, "but I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk about it yet."

"Oh."

Adrian leaned against the counter until the microwave beeped. She opened the door and a moist burst of steam hit her face. She waved her hand through the mist. "I think we may have nuked them."

Cindy slid on a couple of oven mitts and pulled the bowls out. "Freezer?"

"Freezer," Adrian agreed, opening the freezer door so they could temporarily set the bowls inside and cool them down.

"Dada!" Mercy hollered from her playpen.

Cindy and Adrian turned to one another at the same time. "Did she just say what I think she said?"

"Dada!"

Adrian covered her mouth. "I cannot believe Ben is not here to hear this!"

Cindy dashed over to the table and grabbed her cell phone, dialing the butcher shop. "Bunny, hi, it's Cindy. Can you put Ben on? It's important!" She thrust the phone at her daughter.

Adrian carefully walked towards the playpen.

"Cindy?" Ben's voice came from the other end of the line. "Is something wrong?"

"Ben," Adrian said, barely able to contain her grin. "Say hello to your daughter." She flipped the phone open to speaker and held it towards Mercy.

"Mercy?" Ben's voice confusedly asked.

Mercy giggled and stretched her short arms out towards the phone. "Dada!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"She said 'Dada!'" Ben bellowed. "She said 'Dada!'"

"What?" Bunny asked, stopping in the middle of tying plastic around one of the gift baskets.

"You should've heard her, Bunny! She finally said it! Can you believe it? I've been waiting for this! And today of all days! I think it's a sign!"

"What's so special about today?"

"You'll see," he said, practically bunny hopping back to the employee lounge. There was still a half an hour until he was off and although it still felt like forever, the race in his pulse made all the difference. He had finished painting Mercy's new room yesterday and all that was left was to remove the tarp and haul in the furniture. That latter would be simple enough, but he still had to talk to his dad before he could take any furniture from either Adrian's condo or the nursery at the mansion.

He was secretly dreading the talk due to the way his father had reacted the last time, but he rationalized that Leo was still in shock from having walked in on him and Adrian just a month before he'd requested to move out. Moreover, his request to move out had been made in the midst of a heated argument while his father was sick, all of which wouldn't be factors this time around.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Where have you been?" Grace asked as her mother and brother came in through the kitchen door.

Kathleen looked guiltily towards her son. "Tom, why don't you give your sister and I a minute?"

Grace stiffened her posture. "I don't like that beginning to a conversation."

Kathleen slid down into the chair beside her daughter. "I got a call today."

"About?" Grace asked, feeling the hairs on her neck becoming erect.

"They've set a trial date."

Grace pressed a hand to the stormy sea that was her stomach. "And?"

"January."

"_What?!"_

"That's where I was this afternoon," Kathleen hurried on. "Down at the DA's office, trying to get them to change their minds."

"How can they set it for January?! That's seven months away! And the crime happened in March!"

"I know! I know, sweetie," Kathleen agreed. "But _he_ agreed to it; Grant waived his right to a speedy trial."

"Well of course he did!"

"I don't think it's right either, but it all has to do with the complexity of the case and the cases that the court already has on the docket. At least, that's how District Attorney Enriquez explained it to me. He said he tried to get it as soon as possible, but he can only do so much."

"This isn't fair!" Grace shouted. "January. _January!_ Don't you realize that the baby will already be here by then? How am I supposed to go to court to face _him_ like that?!"

Powerless to do anything else, Kathleen pulled her enraged daughter into a hug.

"I hate him! I hate him so much! How come I keep getting punished and he keeps getting his way?!"

"I don't know, Gracie," Kathleen whispered, smoothing her daughter's shoulder length curls. "I don't know."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I hate church," Heather scowled as they moved up to the double doors.

Ricky pulled one open for his friend and waited for her to walk in first. The lights were on this time, unlike the NA Candlelight Meeting he'd been to with his mom back in February. As they moved to the front of the room they noticed several chairs had been set up in what was an attempt at a circle, but looked more the shape of an eggplant instead.

"Ricky! It's good to see you again!"

Ricky squinted at the woman speaking to him. "I'm sorry, wh –"

"Jane," she said, offering her hand and blushing. She was a petite woman of Asian descent, yet she had an accent that sounded faintly like something you might hear in Brooklyn and it made Ricky wonder how she ended up in Valley Glen.

"Jane," he repeated, shaking her hand.

"It's okay if you don't remember me," she said. "I was at the last meeting you attended with your mother a few months ago. I – I remember the speech she gave about you, it was really something."

"Oh." Ricky suddenly felt himself wishing it was another Candlelight Meeting so she couldn't see his face so well. "I didn't realize…did we come to the wrong meeting? I thought this was the Alcoholics Anonymous, not the Narcotics –"

"Many of us go to both," Jane explained. She motioned towards a couple of free chairs next to one with a purse in it. "Is Nora here too?"

"Uh, no," Ricky said slowly. "Actually, I'm here with my friend –"

"Heather." The redhead gave a sullen smile.

"Oh. Is this your first meeting, Heather? Or is it just you're first meeting with us?"

"I'm losing my AA virginity tonight."

Jane laughed. "Well come take a seat," she urged. "We were just about to pass around the cup."

"What cup?" Heather asked.

"It's a cup of popsicle sticks – and don't worry, they're the craft kind, not the ones people have licked on – which has different topics written on them. You pick one and then we go around the circle and you talk about something related to your topic. But you can pass, too, if you're not comfortable. We do encourage you talk though. Most people do."

Heather watched as the cup came around the circle. With a trembling hand she took the cup and pulled out a stick, then passed it to Ricky. She watched Ricky pass it along without taking a stick, since he wasn't there to be a part of the group, and then she carefully turned over the stick in her hands.

Ricky glanced at her, his eyes asking what she'd gotten. Her sarcastic orbs only made him even more curious until finally she leaned in and revealed to him the fine point black marker letters on the wood: _Asking for help. _He couldn't help but snort.

Heather jabbed him with her elbow. "It's not funny," she whispered.

"Sorry," he said earnestly. "But it is completely appropriate for you." Although she said nothing, he could tell by the way she was glaring at him that she agreed. "Are you going to talk?" he asked.

Heather turned the stick over and over in her hands. "I haven't decided yet."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

An hour after he got off, Ben was standing in the happy yellow room he'd worked so fervently painting for his daughter. Beside him was his father, with a blindfold wrapped around his eyes. "All right, Dad," Ben said calmly, "you can take off the blindfold now."

Leo peeled the strip of blue fabric away from his eyes and blinked them to catch his bearings. He gazed around the room as if trying to remember a word that was just on the tip of his tongue. "Benjamin, what is this?"

"It's my old room, Dad."

Leo made a half turn and something flickered in his eyes. "I don't remember my last tenants asking for permission to paint it."

"They didn't,_ I_ did."

"Are you planning on explaining to me what's going on here, Benjamin?"

Ben skirted around his father and motioned him out into the hallway. "Yes, but I want you to see everything first."

Leo trailed behind his son, looking at the pictures that had been hung on the walls of the hallway. He walked into the living room and stopped, seeing that it was full of furniture; furniture from his old life, with his late wife. "What have you done?"

"You had all of this stuff just lying around in storage. It wasn't doing anyone any good there and it just costs you money every month to keep it there, so I had it all brought here. Don't worry, I paid for the moving myself and since it's the beginning of the month, you can close out the storage shed tomorrow without getting charge another month's rent. But I wanted you to see that I can do it; that I can handle things on my own. I'm not a baby anymore, Dad, I have a baby of my own…and she has a mother. The three of us are a family and we need to start acting like it. By the time Adrian gets back from her summer program in New York, I'll be seventeen and we'll have less than a year to figure things out."

"So you're telling me you went behind my back and moved yourselves into my house?"

"No. Adrian didn't even know about this until two days ago. It was supposed to be a surprise. I moved everything in here, I painted the bedrooms, and I've cleaned up everything all by myself. I wanted to show you what I was capable of and then – ask you again – to let me and my family move in. Please, Dad: give me a chance to be there for my family the way you were for me and Mom."


	12. Sweet And Dour

**A/N: **TG(oodness)IF! New chapter time. I've been looking forward to writing this one.

_**Turning Tables**_

**Sweet And Dour**

Ben crept down the hallway with his hands entrenched in the pockets of his jeans. He neared his father's study and took in a long breath and held it as he yanked a hand out of his pocket and knocked on the open door before sliding into the room. He stopped just inside and slipped his hand back into his pocket, waiting for his father to look up from his morning paper.

Leo picked up his coffee mug and took a drink without lifting his eyes from the paper. "Yeah?"

"Good morning!" Ben said as cheerfully as he could.

Finally Leo drew his paper down and peered at his son over the top of it. "Why's that? Why is this a good morning? Something happen since yesterday that I don't know about?"

Ben felt his hope disappear like smoke sucked through a vent, but he tried not to let it show. "Come on, Dad. How long are you going to be mad at me? It's been over a week! Today's the last day of school –"

"What significance does the last day of school have for me? Or, for that matter, for _you_? You're still grounded, Benjamin."

"I know that."

"So, I ask again: what makes this a good morning?"

Ben threw his head back. "I don't know why you have to be so difficult!"

"You were the one who went behind my back after I specifically told you that you could not move in with Adrian and you have the audacity to call _me _difficult?"

"I'm trying to do what's best for my daughter!"

"And_ I_ am trying to do what's best for my son!" Leo picked up his paper again. "You better get to school, Benjamin."

Ben turned his head to the side, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. A wisp of air escaped between his teeth as Ben wrestled with whether or not to say anything else and dig his proverbial hole any deeper.

"Is there something else that's 'good morning'?" Leo asked sarcastically, once again looking up from his newspaper.

"Well…"

"Well what?" Leo glared, setting the paper down and reclining as far back in his wooden office chair as he could.

"I want to know what you plan on doing with the condo."

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm planning on leaving it exactly as it is."

"You mean ready for a family, even though you won't allow us to live in it?"

"Maybe I'll rent it out," Leo shot back. "It is _my_ condominium; _my _choice."

"After all the hard work I put into it?"

"All the hard work I didn't ask for."

"Dad!"

"The clock's ticking, Benjamin. You don't want to be late for school. I won't give the school an excuse if they call in asking why you were tardy." He waved his hand and returned to his paper, this time with no indication that he was going to stop and resume the conversation.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Would you stop asking me about Heather?" Ricky blurted out. "You're not fooling anyone, I know my parents put you up to this. They're overly worried about the dynamics in the house right now and they have nothing to be worried about, okay? So you can get on the phone and tell them that as soon as I leave to ease their fears, all right?"

Dr. Fields bowed his head. "They are worried and naturally so. Living with someone is a big life change and commitment."

"You don't have to tell me that, you've been with me since before I was placed into my first foster home."

"I have," Dr. Fields nodded. "And I've seen you grow and transform in that time, Ricky. I can honestly say you've made great strides since then."

"Even if I always do take one step forward and two steps back."

"Give yourself a little more credit. You haven't taken any steps back lately, have you? In fact, look what you've done in the past year: you held a part-time job, you've been coming on time to all your therapy appointments, you recognized when you needed help, you called me to get that help, you haven't had sex since in over a year, you've been there for your friends, and you've even come clean about your grades and instead of falling back into old habits you did something about them to make sure you earned what you got. That's a lot to be proud of."

"But I'm still hung up on Adrian when she's moved on and happy with someone else."

"We can't help our feelings, but what we can do is know when and when not to act on them."

"'We'? Are you speaking from personal experience?"

Dr. Fields passed a forlorn smile. "This isn't my session, it's yours."

"I'm going to take that as a 'yes.'" Ricky held up his hand when his therapist attempted to speak. "Don't worry, I won't press the issue if you just answer me this: did you ever get over her? Or him?"

Dr. Fields chuckled. "Her. I do have a wife and kids you know."

"I know," Ricky smirked. "But that doesn't mean anything."

"True," Dr. Fields relented.

"And you still haven't answered my question."

There was a long lapse of sound, save for the two men breathing. Then Dr. Fields finally said, "No. No, I'm still not over her." Another moment of silence spilled out between them, growing like a puddle of spilt milk. Dr. Fields finally looked to his watch. "I guess we're out of time."

Ricky pushed himself off the couch. "Next time my parents ask you to give me a rush appointment, can it not be quite so early?"

"Sorry about that. I had a few unexpected appointments today and this was the only time I could squeeze you in."

Ricky moved towards the door. "Don't forget to call my parents," he winked.

"I'm on it." Dr. Fields stood up as Ricky opened the door. "Good luck on your last tests today."

"I'll probably need it." Ricky lifted one foot to step out the door and set it back down when he saw Leo standing on the other side of the threshold. He locked eyes with the older man for a beat, then cast his head down and skirted around him as the latter moved into Dr. Fields's office.

"Geeze, I shoulda just talked to ya last night."

"He's not gonna say anything."

Ricky smiled a little as he overheard his therapist's last words before the door shut. It was the man's faith in him that really made him swell, but he didn't have time to dwell on it for too long, because the curiosity over what on Earth Leo could be doing booking an appointment with Dr. Fields set in. The man wasn't just your everyday therapist, he specialized in deeply traumatized patients and as far as he knew, Leo didn't fit the bill. "Don't judge a book by its cover though," he reminded himself as he got into the driver's seat. He could practically hear Shakur's voice in his head as he said it. Still, the mystery tickled him the entire drive to Grant High.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Grace stepped out of the shower with her towel wrapped around her body. Beads of water were rolling down her skin and dripping from the ends of her wet hair like tears as she walked over to the sink and wiped down the foggy mirror with the side of her hand. She ran her hairbrush through her hair a couple of times and then brushed her teeth. When that was finished she began to unwind the towel from herself, careful to dry her legs, feet, and dab the ends of her hair one more time before hanging the towel up.

Her clothes were sitting on the top of the toilet seat in a carefully folded pile: a black sleeved and white bodice V-neck satin kimono tunic with an intricate plum and magenta flower pattern down the front, a pair of black stretchy leggings, a white bra, underwear, and a pair of violet ballet flats that were sitting at the base of the toilet. Grace reached for her bra and fastened it on, but as she reached for her underwear she felt another dribble of water slide down her leg. Annoyed, she swiped it away and grabbed the undergarment, only to see a splotch of fresh blood smear from her fingers onto the fabric.

Panicking, Grace looked down at her leg and saw where the initial blood drops had been smudged by her fingers. The sight of the blood suddenly brought back a maelstrom of memories of being in the same bathroom she now stood in, washing away the brutality of Grant's crime. She felt like someone had slung a wrecking ball into the side of her skull and caught herself against the edge of the sink. She grappled for the door, leaving bloody fingerprints on everything she touched. "Mom! Mom!" Her voice was high and frayed. "Mom, please, I need you!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Sooo!" Alice singsonged, following behind Ben and arm-in-arm with Henry. "They're throwing a party at the park to celebrate the last day of school!"

"They who?" Ben asked, stopping at his locker and twisting the combination into his lock.

"Does it matter?" Henry asked, grinning and making gooey eyes at his girlfriend.

"No, it doesn't. I guess you forgot, I'm still grounded."

Alice and Henry sobered at the same time. "Oh yeah."

"What friends you are," he glared. "You actually _did _forget."

"Well you're never grounded, so in our defense, it is kind of easy to forget," Henry said.

"Except for when his dad grounded him freshman year over the whole pregnancy thing."

"Oh yeah." Henry scrunched up his nose. "Still, that's only two times in more than sixteen-and-a-half years."

"Bottom line is: I can't go. It's school, work, and home and I can't even drive myself because my dad confiscated my car and my license. And my cell phone. And my laptop."

"You_ really_ pissed him off."

"That's what grounding means, Hank," Alice bluntly remarked.

"He just doesn't get it!"

"Statistically, eighty percent of teenage parents don't get married, Ben."

"I'm not talking about getting married, although, down the line, I wouldn't rule that out. I'm talking about moving in with the mother of my child. And, you know what? So what? Maybe Adrian and I are part of that twenty percent, okay? We'll never know if we don't try."

"And what if it turns out to be a disaster?"

Ben yanked his books out of his locker and gave it a good slam. "Just drop it, okay? I'm not talking about this here. Have fun at the park!" He spun on his heel, leaving his friends standing bewilderedly beside his locker.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Have you seen Grace this morning?" Adrian asked as she approached Ricky at the soda machine.

"No, I just got here. I had something else to do." He dropped a couple coins into the slot and hovered his hand over the button choices. "Why, is something up?"

"No, I was just planning to give her some pregnancy books that I finally found buried in my closet but I can't find her."

"Have you tried calling her?"

"I'm getting her voicemail."

"Well she can't exactly miss today, it's the last day of sch –"

"What?"

Ricky pushed the button for a Pepsi and it popped out the front of the machine. He bent down to pick it up and when he stood up again he said, "It's the last day of school."

"And?"

"Do you know what the date is?"

"The eleventh, wh –" Her face paled. "Oh my god, it's the eleventh. I can't believe I forgot that!"

"You've had a lot on your plate."

"Grace has had more! And the last day of school falling on the anniversary of her dad's death…" She shook her head, completely shamed. "I'm as shitty a friend as they come. I should've remembered!"

Ricky breathed onto the top of his can until it was white and then wiped it off with the edge of his shirt, careful to use his fingernail to run it around the ring of the can. "I'm sure she'll be here," he said. "Maybe she just stopped by the cemetery first?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Grace?" Dr. Ottavi asked as she entered the room, finding Grace seated with her hands in her lap on the examine bed and Kathleen at her side with her hand on her daughter's left knee. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak with you personally on the phone this morning, I was helping another patient with a difficult delivery." She opened the drawer and slid on a pair of gloves. "Now, Dr. Miller relayed your information to me: you were experiencing some spotting this morning?"

"Yeah, what does that mean?"

"I'm not sure yet," she said. "Can you please lie down?"

Grace reclined onto the examine bed and propped her legs up just like she'd done for the last examination. "Is it bad? They told me to come in right away."

"Spotting can be pretty common in the early part of pregnancy and we usually recommend just wearing a pad to handle it. It happens in about one in three pregnancies. You haven't experienced the passing of any tissue, have you?"

"No, just blood."

Dr. Ottavi nodded. "Chances are you and the baby will be fine, but as a precaution, I'd like to run an ultrasound just to make sure everything's still looking good, okay?"

Grace nodded and reached like a toddler for her mother's hand.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

By lunchtime Ricky had still seen no sign of Grace and was beginning to feel like he'd under reacted to having not seen her that morning. He wanted to believe that he was overacting now, but the fact that she had run away before was vivid a tattoo on his conscious.

Heather plopped her hot lunch tray down at the picnic table beside Ricky. "So how do you think you did on your finals so far?"

"Passable."

"Better than me," Heather replied. "I felt pretty good about one, which is always a sign of doom. I don't know about you, but I prefer to err on the side of pessimism so as to not disappoint myself later."

Ashley joined them moments later, taking the bench opposite Ricky and parallel to Heather. She pulled a plastic bag with about five Oreos out of her coat pocket and plied it open.

"I don't think I ever thanked you for that box of Oreos, by the way. Stellar late night cramming food."

"Aren't they, though?" Ashley smirked.

Ricky narrowed his eyes at Ashley. "Where's your lunch?"

Ashley shrugged. "I was hungry earlier, I ate it between classes."

Heather looked curiously between Ricky and Ashley, then she picked up an applesauce from her lunch tray and set it in front of Ashley. "Help yourself, I've never really liked applesauce anyway, it's got a baby food consistency like mashed potatoes or yogurt." She made a face and picked up a slice of pizza from her tray. "This whole hot lunch thing is a pretty sweet deal, though." She eyed Ricky. "Gotta give your 'rents points for signing me up."

Ashley peeled open the applesauce and stole a spoon off Heather's tray. She ate it slowly at first, but her pace soon picked up and it was gone in five bites.

Ricky noted Lauren and Madison seated at one of the tables a few yards away and pushed his hot lunch tray away. "I'll be right back." He weaved his way over to the two sophomores and their chatter ceased as soon as Lauren noticed him standing behind Madison.

"Yes?"

"Where's Amy?"

"What do you want with Amy?"

"Just tell me where she is."

"She's right here, why?"

Ricky whirled around and found Amy standing a few inches away from him. He looked her up and down before he realized she was holding a brown paper bag, presumably her lunch. "Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone."

Amy noticed the looks her friends were shooting her and she shrugged. "I'll be back." She followed Ricky back through the cafeteria, into the hallway, and to her surprise, all the way into the empty band room. "What's this about?"

"Is something wrong with Ashley?"

"Shouldn't you be asking _her_ that?"

"You know how Ash is."

"Yeah, I do, and I know she's far more open with you and Heather than she is with me. At least she is now. We didn't always used to be like this."

Ricky suddenly grabbed the brown bag from Amy's hands and began to rifle through it.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Amy lurched forward, grabbing the edge of the bag and ripping it straight down. The contents collapsed onto the floor: a water bottle with a tattered label, a chocolate yogurt cup, and some cheeses with the Boykewich Butcher label on them, no doubt from a gift basket. Amy dropped to her knees to collect them.

"How bad off is your mom?"

"That's really none of your business."

"Amy." Ricky grabbed her by the shoulder, halting her movements. "I've noticed that Ashley rarely comes to school with a lunch lately and if I ask her about it she'll tell me she already ate or she left it at home. She can't just not eat all the time. I've tried to give her something when I can, but if I'm too obvious about it she won't take it because she thinks I'm pitying her."

"Look, it's still not any of your business, but my mom's hours gut cut, okay? She's been working down at that hotdog place, but they've been losing business lately and so they cut the hours of the newest person to save money. She's been looking for another job to make up for it, but she hasn't been able to find anything yet. And then there's also the fact that my grandmother's been getting worse and now she's looking at having to hire either someone to privately take care of her at her house or she'll have to put her in a care home and neither of those things are cheap."

Ricky's shoulders deflated. "Isn't there anything she can do? I know they have some programs –"

"She doesn't like government handouts."

"They're not handouts, they're programs for people who need help. Not that there aren't people who abuse them – I come from a home that did – but they do help a lot of people and if you're struggling right now –"

"Just extract your nose, Ricky," Amy cut in, holding the flat of her hand in his face. "I'll take care of Ashley. Thanks for letting me know, I didn't know she hasn't been taking something for lunch. But beyond that, just mind your own business." Her hair billowed in a shimmery brown comet-like streak as she whirled out of the band room.

"Can nothing ever be easy?" Frustration was mounting in his fists. Whether it was him or someone he cared about, every time he turned around there was something else falling to pieces. He stalked over to the drum set, picked up the drumsticks, and began to bang away his aggravations.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"My god, Grace, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Dr. Ottavi said it was nothing to worry about. The baby and I are fine." Grace held the cell phone to her ear. "But, uh, I don't think I'm coming in today. I know, technically, I'm not supposed to miss anymore school, but I'm already going to summer school and I got a doctor's note, so the school is honoring the absence."

"I'm just glad you're okay."

"Yeah. Well, I'm a little tired right now, so I'm going to try and get some sleep. I'll talk to you in a while. Good luck on your tests."

"Thanks. I hope you feel better. I'll stop by the see you later, if that's okay with you."

"Maybe tomorrow?" Grace suggested hesitantly. "I'm just…really tired."

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow. You get better, Blondie."

Grace smiled. "Bye." She hung up her phone and slid it into purse, then she knelt down and sat beside a small hole in the ground. She was on the green of the golf course where she had scattered her father's ashes less than a year earlier. However, it had been exactly a year since the day that she had gotten into the Young Healers Camp and subsequently discovered that she would never have a chance to tell her father the news.

She brought her knees up to her chest and cried softly into them. She hated that, because it was beginning to feel like that was all she did lately: cry and vomit. Grace had begun to realize that there were a lot of things she hated and that made her feel guilty and self loathing. "If you can hear me right now…what I wouldn't do to have you back, Daddy."

The white flag at the top of the pole began to flutter in a sudden breeze and its sound attracted Grace's attention. She sniffed and watched it for a while. She lost track of how long, but when it finally stopped fluttering, the breeze had dried the tears on her cheeks. She pushed her hand into her purse and pulled out a single red rose, the stem cut short, and set it inside the cup that the golf ball was meant to fall into.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ben found himself slinking down the hallway for the second time in the same day and mildly wondered if he was dreaming it, because he couldn't seriously be foolish enough to do what he was doing. He stopped and pinched himself and sure enough he yelped, having underestimated his own strength. As he neared his dad's study he could hear him speaking, yet he was almost sure that nobody was visiting at this time of night.

As he stepped through the open doors, he caught sight of his dad holding two framed photographs. Although he couldn't see what they were of, Ben knew them instantly by their frames: pictures of his parents; his mother, Sarah, back in the bloom of her life. His heart squeezed like prey trapped in a boa's grip.

When Leo turned to reach for his desk drawer, he saw Ben standing there and he wiped his face with his sleeve. "I didn't see you there." He slid the frames into his drawer and shut it. "What did you want?"

Ben closed his eyes. "I want to apologize."

"And why's that?"

Ben opened his eyes, startled by the apathy of the reaction. "I shouldn't have gone behind your back."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"But I didn't know how else to try and get you to see my point of view."

"It's not about that, Ben. I do see why you want to move in with Adrian: you want to be closer to your girlfriend and your daughter; you don't want her split between two homes. I understand that. But you don't seem to understand my point of view: sharing your life with someone day in and day out is no picnic. It might seem like that at first, but after the honeymoon phase wears off, it's not going to be one big picnic anymore."

"I know that."

"I don't think you do. A commitment like the one you're talking about is for adults, not children. Not even children who are on the cusp of adulthood."

"Maybe I'm more mature than you think I am?"

"I'm not so sure about that." Leo rounded his desk. "But I have been thinking lately that you're more determined than I thought and I do think that counts for something."

Ben raised his eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Why don't you get your coat, I think we need to take a little drive."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Popcorn's ready!" Adrian hollered from the kitchen. She added a little extra movie salt – or so the container proclaimed it to be – as her mother came into the living room. Adrian carried the large plastic blue bowl with the fluffy yellow-white chunks in it over to the couch and propped her bare feet up on the edge of the coffee table.

Cindy came over to sit down beside her, spreading a blanket from the back of the couch over the two of them. She reached for the popcorn bowl and had grabbed a fistful when the doorbell rang. She and Adrian looked at each other at the same time.

"Boyfriend?" Adrian whispered.

Cindy nudged her daughter playfully. "Ben?" she shot back.

"Grounded," Adrian replied.

Cindy shrugged and pushed the blanket off and, with an air of annoyance, dropped her popcorn back into the bowl. She padded over to the door. "Who is it?" she called cautiously.

"It's Leo Boykewich," Leo's voice answered.

Cindy looked over her shoulder but Adrian just shook her head in confusion. The older woman unlocked the door and opened it, allowing Leo in and was more than a little surprised when Ben followed in after him.

"Ben, what are you doing here?"

Leo looked to Cindy. "I know we agreed to talk to them this weekend, and I'm very sorry for the intrusion so late, but I think we need to have that talk now."

"What talk?" Adrian asked suspiciously, setting aside the popcorn and rising to her feet with her arms folded. Her mind suddenly flashed back to the day Leo and Ben had showed up at her door back when she was pregnant and Leo announced that he knew about the pregnancy – let alone where she lived – which was news to her.

"Leo and I spoke this afternoon, when you and Ben were at school," Cindy said, her face revealing the shame of having kept that secret from her daughter.

"_About?"_ Adrian demanded.

"About you and Ben."

"More specifically: you and Ben living together."

Ben blinked in surprise, his face mirroring his girlfriend's. "You changed your mind?"

"Not exactly." Leo motioned to the couch. "Why don't you and Adrian have a seat?"

Not sure whether declining would be in his favor or not, Ben eventually agreed and moved to the couch without protest. It took Adrian another minute, but she eventually joined him. As soon as she did, he laid his hand over hers.

"Cindy and I had a long talk this afternoon," Leo began. "I'm sure Adrian told her why Ben has been on restriction for the last week, but I explained to her what happened in detail and we talked in depth about your feelings and ours."

"Neither one of us feel like you should move in together," Cindy said. "Even at eighteen, you're still only a teenager, Adrian. And Ben isn't even legal yet."

Ben opened his mouth to protest, but Leo held up his finger to silence him. "Nevertheless, you've clearly gone out of your way to send us a message and want you to know that we hear it loud and clear. Now I've had some very enlightening discussions with a few people as of late about what that means and this is the conclusion we've come to…" He nodded to Cindy.

"We are willing to let you move in together, but not without conditions."

"What kind of conditions?" Adrian asked suspiciously.

"First of all, it wouldn't be until after Adrian has come back from New York. I want to see how Ben is able to take care of Mercy during that time, completely on his own: no babysitter and no help from me or your mother."

"Secondly, if you want to be adults, then we will treat you like adults."

Ben's forehead creased. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you forfeit your safety net for your independence," Cindy said, eyeing Adrian. "As an eighteen-year-old living on her own, the only thing I'm going to provide you with is your ability to stay on my insurance as a full time student. But I will no longer be available to babysit Mercy – at least, not for free – or give you spending money or pay to fix your car when something goes wrong."

"And for you, Ben, it's a little more tricky: I'm still legally responsible for providing for you until you're eighteen. That means food, shelter, etcetera... Under my roof, I've always gone above and beyond for you: you have a cell phone that you don't pay for each month, a car you don't pay insurance on, a nanny for your daughter that _I_ employ...and if you should choose to go against my better judgment and move in with Adrian, all of that would cease. I would continue to pay for the essentials that I'm required to as your parent until your eighteenth birthday, but nothing above and beyond. I would have my accountant go back and determine the average of what I spend on your basic needs for the last year and then I would cut you a check for that amount each month until you're eighteen. What you do with that would be up to you, but know that it would not be enough to feed three people, as it's based on the needs of one teenage boy," he said, stressing the last two words.

"You would probably need to get a job, Adrian. I'm not sure what Ben makes, but I doubt he makes enough to support all three of your basic needs, such as food, as well as your individual car insurances, cell phones, rent, and all of Mercy's needs."

"Rent?" Ben echoed. "But you just got done saying you'll keep a roof over my head."

"Over yours, yes. But Adrian and Mercy – as much as I care for them – are not my responsibility. I'd deduct half of the rent as my contribution to your room and board, but Adrian would still have rent to pay and how you two would decide to pay that would be up to you…those are the types of decisions you make when you live together."

"How much rent?"

"The same as my last tenants," Leo said calmly. "It's a two bedroom, two bath, two car garage condominium in prime neighborhood. I paid the water bill, but they were responsible for the gas, electric, and garbage just as you would be. I charged them twelve-hundred a month, therefore your rent would be six-hundred, but if you're still there by Ben's eighteenth birthday, it would increase to the full amount at that time. Aside from the six-hundred deduction for Ben, you would have essentially the same rental agreement as my last tenants."

"And above all, you need to understand this: _when_ it starts to get rough, we're not just going to welcome you back home. If you choose to do this, you're choosing to stick it out, and you can't just run back to Leo or I when the disagreements and the fights and the hardships arise."

"You," Adrian said as she looked to Leo, "said 'if you're still together by Ben's eighteenth birthday.' It implies you have your doubts about being able to make this work…and what if it doesn't? Then what? How can we not come home if it doesn't work out?"

"As an adult, Adrian, you have to live with the choices you make. Once you leave home, you _leave_ home. I'm sorry."

"And Ben, I have to provide you with shelter, but it doesn't necessarily have to be the same shelter I'm living in. Therefore, if you choose to live with Adrian and have a fight that lands you back at my door, I'm going to send you right back to the house you've chosen to live in. If you and Adrian can't handle that and one of you needs to leave, then you'll have to work that out between the two of you, but mine and Cindy's couches won't be options."

"Now I know this is a lot to take in all at once, so we don't expect an answer right away."

"As adults, I'm sure you plan to think long and hard about this," Leo added, keeping his eyes on Ben. "So Ben and I are going to leave tonight and when you're ready, the four of us will get together and hear what you've decided." Leo abruptly moved towards the door.

Ben hung back, looking at Adrian as though he'd just woken up to a freezing snowstorm on a raft in the middle of a lake. He hesitated to let go of her hand and was surprised when Adrian extracted it for him.

"I need time to think, Ben. So do you." She quickly pecked his cheek. "Go home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ben leaned in to kiss Adrian but missed her lips when she turned her head to the side. He winced internally and got up to join his dad at the goodnight. "Goodnight, Cindy."

"Goodnight, Ben."

Adrian listened to the click of the door in the background and continued to stare aimlessly into the popcorn bowl on the table.

Cindy moved around the couch and stopped, pressing a chaste kiss to her daughter's cheek. "I guess the movie's out tonight."

Adrian listened to her mother's feet fade into the bedroom, followed by another click of the door. She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped herself in the blanket that her mother had abandoned when Leo knocked. She could still feel the warmth of Ben's kiss on one cheek and her mother's on the other.


	13. Up All Morning

**A/N:** I had a lot of homework this week and a bit of writer's block too, which conspired to keep me from updating. Apologies.

_**Turning Tables**_

**Up All Morning**

"Looks like your grades came," Cindy said as she poked her head into her daughter's room, holding a letter with the school's address in the upper left hand corner. She stepped inside and tore open the back with her manicured fingernail.

Adrian had her suitcases out on her bed and was noisily shoving hangers back and forth across the rack in her closet, hunting for the right things to put in them. She eventually pulled out several pant hangers full of jeans and threw them onto the edge of the bed, then she drew out two black dresses, decided one was too short, and put it back.

"All A's!" Cindy said proudly.

Adrian laid the black dress on top of the jeans and gave her mother a sharp look. "Did you expect anything less?"

"No, of course not. I just expect you do the best you can."

"Well I wouldn't have gotten into that summer program if I did any less." Adrian resumed her clothing scavenger hunt.

"You know you still have a couple weeks to pack."

"I want to do it now."

"I commend you wanting to be on top of things, but isn't three weeks a little early, even for you?"

"If I don't I'll procrastinate and end up scrambling to do it the night before. In fact, weren't you just scolding me for procrastinating a few weeks ago?"

Cindy set the report card down on the edge of the computer desk George had gifted to Adrian back when she was still dating him. "You don't have to be hostile."

"Who's being hostile? I'm just telling it like it is."

Cindy scowled. "I know you're still angry at me –"

"You can bet your ass I'm still angry at you! Why wouldn't I be? Doing what you and Leo did to Ben and I. I can't believe you!"

"You can't be babied your entire life, Adrian. Eventually we all have to grow up."

"Don't you talk to me about being 'babied.' I have never been 'babied!' I've had to take care of myself for years because you were always gone!"

"Always gone so that I could provide for you! It's not easy being a single mother!"

"You made the choice to move out of your parents house!"

"And that is exactly my point. I'm not making you move out, Adrian, I'm just letting you know how it will be if you do."

"But your situation is different than mine! Look at your parents! They hated me; they hated us both because they thought of you getting pregnant at seventeen as some unforgivable sin. I never had a relationship with them after you left and I was all the better for that. But you actually have a relationship with Mercy, except you're willing to deny her that just to teach me a 'lesson.'"

"I'm not saying I won't spend time with Mercy just to spend time with her, but on my own terms, not because you need a last minute babysitter. I love Mercy, you know that! And I love you too. But I think moving in with Ben is a mistake."

"You may be right and you may be wrong, but you don't have to punish me for trying to find that out."

"I wish you could understand that this isn't a punishment."

"I wish I could be as naive as you as well."

"Don't you talk to me that way!"

"Or what?" Adrian taunted. "You'll kick me out?" She slammed her closet shut and stormed out of the bedroom.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Are you ready for summer school on Monday?"

"That's like asking if you're ready to give birth."

Grace laughed from her spot on Heather's bed. She was sitting cross legged, nibbling on an Oreo while holding a napkin beneath her chin to catch the crumbs. "I don't think I ever really asked: what was the epidural like?"

"Having second thoughts about the water birth, hm?"

Grace twisted the top off the Oreo and examined the cream center. "I'm just tired of being in pain."

Heather sobered a little at the tone of the blonde's voice. "It's great at relieving the pain. It made me really itchy though, that's a drawback. I've heard others day that it can cause nausea too, but I never experienced that." She was sitting on the other side of the bed, facing Grace, with a star shaped plastic bag in her lap. The bag said _Hello Kitty_ centered at the top in blue letters outlined in pink, with a picture of said character below it, and the words _Slumber Party_ below that in yellow letters outlined in blue. The bag was filled to the top zipper with nail polishes. "Damn, girl! How many nail polishes do you have anyway?"

Grace blushed. "Some of them are really old and thick. Probably need to be thrown out, but I've had them since I was a kid so I can't bring myself to do it."

"I bet you've had this since you were a kid too," she said, indicating the bag. Finally she pulled out an oblong shaped plastic bottle filled with yellow polish. The label on the top said _Jelly Beans_.

"Oh! I remember that one," Grace grinned. "It was part of a present Tom gave me for Christmas one year. It smells like pineapples and bananas after it dries."

"Well let's see if it still works." She began to shake the bottle, listening to the mixing beads beat around against the sides of the bean shaped plastic. "I was actually looking for black, but it's the one color you don't have."

"Black's actually a shade, not a color."

Heather rolled her eyes. "Not the point. I was thinking I could paint them black and then do a top coat of that silver sparkle stuff you have. It'd be cool, like little galaxies."

Grace nodded. "That might look kind of pretty," she agreed. "I'll see if Adrian can join us next time we do this. She has some colors that I don't. Maybe black?"

"Probably." Heather struggled to twist off the cap. It was tight from having been unused for so long. "So I'm going to paint your nails yellow and purple."

"Yellow and purple?" Grace asked suspiciously. She popped the remainder of her cookie into her mouth, dusted the crumbs off her hands, and set the crumby napkin onto the nightstand.

Heather laid the Hello Kitty bag down between them and set a napkin on top of then, then gestured for one of Grace's hands. "Yeah, yellow background with purple basketballs on them. You're going to show up on Monday with Lakers Pride!"

"Lakers?"

"Los Angeles basketball team?" the redhead replied bluntly. "Kind of super famous for tall hot guys. _Kobe Bryant._"

"Sounds familiar," Grace nodded. "I think I've heard of them."

Heather shook her head. "You were a cheerleader, yet you're hopeless."

"Just because I liked cheering didn't mean I was actually interested in the sport. Sports were more Jack's and Ricky's and Jason's things. By the way, I didn't realize you liked sports."

"Yeah, I was on the girls' basketball team in middle school. I probably would've been on freshman year in high school, too, but I missed tryouts."

"And then you were pregnant your sophomore year," Grace realized.

"Yeah."

"Well maybe you should try out next year?"

"Maybe," Heather shrugged, applying another stroke to Grace's pinky nail. "We'll see what happens with this temporary custody thing by then."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Hey, you never told me what classes you decided on for next year," Leo said, looking up from his stack of pancakes.

Ben sat at the opposite end of the table with a stack half the size of his father's. "We chose them last week."

"And?" Leo persisted. "What are you taking?"

Ben stabbed his fork into two hunks of pancake and swirled them around in the buttery maple mess on his plate. "I still need two years of my foreign language requirement, so I signed up for Italian I."

Leo nodded. "Good for you. What else?"

"Just math, English, and history. I don't even remember the titles, they're just the required classes. So is Italian, but I got a choice of foreign languages. The others are just whatever the base requirements for a junior are." Ben suddenly got up from the table and carried his plate over to the counter to put plastic wrap on it.

"Where are you going?"

Ben glared as he put his leftovers in the refrigerator. "I'm going to go talk with Adrian today, 'like an adult.'" He turned towards his father and offered his hand. "Can I get the key to the condo? I think it would be best to talk there. We can't make a proper decision without being able to see what we're dealing with, can we? And Adrian's hardly been over there save for the one time before it was finished."

Leo sighed and dug into his pocket for his keys. A moment later he pulled them out and struggled to get the condo key off the ring. He eventually set it in his son's awaiting palm. "Think about what you're doing, Benjamin. Don't make any rash decisions."

Ben turned away from him without speaking and made a beeline for the front door. He pulled his cell phone out – which Leo had given back to him on Sunday along with the keys to his car – and began to type up a text to Adrian: _Meet me at the condo ASAP. Bring your laptop._

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Wood cracked against leather and the baseball bounced off the bat and smashed into the chain link cage. The latter rattled like a snake as the ball thumped to the ground and rolled to the stop and the process repeated as Ricky continued to smack the balls in the batting cage, only missing one here or there. When the hum of the ball machine finally gave out he flipped his bat over and pressed the head of it to the ground, partially leaning his weight against it like a cane.

"Nice," Ashley said nonchalantly.

"I can't help but feel you're unimpressed."

"Are you trying to impress me?"

Ricky smirked. "No. I can promise you that's not what I'm doing." He pushed off the bat. "Wanna grab a bite?" he asked suddenly.

"It's not even ten in the morning."

"Great!" he grinned. "We can still make the breakfast menus."

"I don't have any cash."

"It's on me."

Ashley sulked onto the bench behind him. "Is that what this is about?"

"What?"

"Your quest to fatten me up?"

"Are you worried about your weight?"

"_No."_ On that point, her face was as resolute as her voice. "But if you think I haven't noticed your badgering me about my lunches at school, then you're wrong. Whatever you think you know, you don't."

Ricky pulled open the batting cage door and waved his arm. "Suit yourself, but I'm still getting the pancake breakfast from Micky D's and since I'm your ride, you can either go with me or walk."

Ashley glowered at the drummer, stubbornly holding her seat for another two minutes until Ricky finally gave up and walked out of the batting cage. She swung down and grabbed one of the balls that he had missed earlier and stepped out of the cage, throwing it at his shoulder. It missed and grazed his arm instead.

Ricky rubbed his arm as he looked back at his friend. "I'm glad you made the right decision."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Hey," Ben said, opening the door. He smiled as his girlfriend entered the condominium with their daughter on her hip.

"Dada!" Mercy cried, reaching for Ben.

Ben accepted the squirming bundle from Adrian and bounced her up and down, much to the child's enjoyment. He carried the little girl down the hallway and into the bedroom he's painted for her. It was pretty bare, but he had set up the playpen from his house in the middle of it and put his childhood stuffed animal, Mr. Bear, and a couple of Mercy's other toys inside. He set her down in the playpen and ushered Adrian into the living room.

Adrian slid Mercy's diaper bag off one shoulder and her laptop bag off the other. "Are there any unprotected network connections around here?"

"I'm not sure," Ben said. He seated himself on the couch beside his girlfriend and watched her boot up her laptop.

A few minutes later Adrian frowned. "There's one. It's weak, only a couple bars, so it may go out. Did you ask me to bring my laptop because you wanted to go over the expenses?"

"Yeah. I've been thinking about it ever since you brought it up a few days ago. It's just so overwhelming."

"I know." Adrian clicked on her Favorites List and opened a tab she'd labeled _Independence_. "I've been doing some research on my own."

"That's good."

"No, it's not. You don't seem to grasp how expensive our parents 'stipulations' are, Ben." She pressed her hand to her forehead. "Maybe it's because you've known money your entire life, but my god! Look!" She thrust her laptop into Ben's lap. "See that? It's the USDA child expense calculator. It's estimating twelve-thousand-three-hundred-eighty-eight dollars to raise Mercy…just for one year! And that takes into account her age, that we live in California, that we'd be a 'two parent' household, etcetera… It may not be exact, maybe less. Maybe more. And guess what, Ben? I don't even have a job! I can't afford that. And I don't think you can either. How much do you even make?"

"Ten dollars an hour. Minimum wage is eight. My dad pays for his employees lunch hours, too. Not all places do."

"Yeah, I know your dad is good to his employees. Better than a lot of people. But he already said he won't be giving you a raise or extra hours if we were to move in together. Unless you 'earn' them 'like everyone else.'"

"I already told you Bunny switched around my hours this week, didn't I?"

"No."

Ben pressed his palm to his face. "I meant to, sorry. It wasn't because of this, she told me she was thinking about it a couple months ago, but she'd have to review the books. I guess she did and decided to put them in place starting on summer vacation because I was already supposed to increase my hours for the summer. If that hadn't been in mind beforehand, my dad would probably ban me from working more summer hours too."

"So what's the new schedule like?"

"I've got Wednesdays and Sundays off now. Bunny says those are our slowest days."

"So, wait, you're working today? When?"

Ben glanced at the time on the lower right of her laptop screen. "I have to be in at ten, so we've still got a little over an hour to go over this. I've been up all morning thinking about it."

"Ditto. I was up all last night, too." Adrian took her laptop back and hit the calculator button. "Do you know what your take home weekly pay is? On a normal week, not a summer week."

"It's one-thirty before taxes and one-eighteen after…and change. Like sixty-two cents or something."

Adrian's fingers did a tap dance across the keys. "Assuming you're right about the change, that's four-hundred-seventy-four dollars and eighty-four cents for four weeks. That's not even enough for 'my' six-hundred in rent alone."

"But he said we can't even move in together until after you get back from New York. I'll be working ten to seven all summer, so I can save up. We'll be in the green."

"For a while. But when you're constantly putting out more than what you're bringing in your savings will eventually dwindle and die off. Then what?"

"Look, I know that you had a bad experience the last time you tried to get a job, but – but maybe you could try again?"

"With who? I submitted several applications last time and that got me nowhere."

"But you'll be legal and not pregnant, so that opens up more opportunities."

"That'll also mean more money for childcare. Can we even afford the nanny? Like you said, your dad does well by his employees. Nannies and child care givers are underpaid as a whole, I know. Do you even know how much your dad gives Briella? Can we even think of being able to take that on? Let alone giving her more hours if I were able to get a job."

"I don't know. I'd have to talk to her about it."

"You mean you have to talk to her about it. If you're seriously considering this, it's not optional."

"Are _you_ seriously considering this?"

"I don't know," Adrian said tiredly. "I want it. I want it for our family, but 'want' and 'can' are totally different. I come from a single parent childhood. I remember how my mother struggled; how I never saw her and how I had to tiptoe around the house during the day so as to not wake her up when she was sleeping off her jetlag. I remember how I was teased at school for not having what everyone else had before she eventually got to a point where she was making and saving, instead of just making and spending. She never wanted to be the type who had to get food stamps, although she did give in to the reduced hot lunch program when I was in elementary and middle school. And we clipped coupons and bargain hunted all the time. We still do, we just don't go to the thrift stores as often anymore."

"We can clip coupons; we can bargain hunt. I've never done that before, but I don't have anything against it. You…can show me."

Adrian smiled sadly at him. "Well then you can add the Sunday paper to our list of expenses then, because that's got the best coupons in it."

Ben sighed. "So what's that then? Rent, cell phones, car insurance, gas, and the Sunday paper?"

"Plus food, diapers, clothes, Internet, electric, gas, garbage, insurance –"

"Your mom said you could stay on hers and I'll still be on my dad's."

"I mean for Mercy."

"Oh."

"Does your dad offer any insurance benefits you could take advantage of as a part-time employee? Of course he'll make you 'pay' for it, but maybe there is something we could look into dependent care-wise that might be more beneficial through your job instead of getting it somewhere else?"

"I'll put that down on my list of things to talk to people about. Uhm, do you think you could try and put a list together of all our expenses?"

"Today?"

"Did you have other plans?"

"It's the second Saturday of summer vacation, so I guess not. Yeah, I'll work on that. It might not be complete though; I'm sure I'll forget something. Maybe several somethings."

"As long as we can get the bulk of it done before you go to New York, that way I can try to factor in how much we'll be in the red. Although, my dad did say he'd be cutting me a check for personal expenses, so we can factor that in too."

"_After_ his accountant figures out an average. And that won't last past eighteen anyway, so if we're thinking long term, we have to have plans in place for when the loss of that check and the gain of an extra six-hundred a month."

"That's still a ways off."

"It'll come faster than you think."

"_¡Mamá!"_

Adrian groaned and started to push off the couch.

Ben checked the time again. "I think I'm gonna get going. I'll see if I can get there early and ask Bunny about the insurance questions you mentioned. If she knows, maybe I can forgo the conversation with my dad. I'm still pretty unhappy with him right now."

"You're not the only one. I've been avoiding my mom all week and we finally got into it this morning."

Ben pressed his hands to her shoulders and gave Adrian a long kiss. "Why don't you hang around the condo today?"

"Can I do that?"

Ben produced the key from his pocket and tucked it into Adrian's hand. "My dad gave it to me this morning. I said you need to have time to look around and think for yourself, so do that. Just you and Mercy: hang out and do whatever you want."

Adrian smiled and gave her boyfriend a return kiss. "Okay." She reached around and smacked him on the behind. "Now get to work!"

"_¡Mamá!" _Mercy's voice shouted again, this time more insistent than the last.

Adrian grunted. "_Mamá_'s coming!" She waited until she heard his car pulling out of the driveway and then retreated to Mercy's intended room where she found her daughter holding onto the edge of the playpen and making little grasshopper jumps as though she thought she could actually propel herself over the side. Adrian bent over and scooped the little Latina out of the playpen and kissed the top of her head. "You're already trying to sneak out," she said. "You're going to be a joy in your teenage years, aren't you?"

Mercy patted her mother's cheeks and made a sound like she was blowing a raspberry. "Dada?"

"Daddy went to work," Adrian explained, bouncing the little girl on her hip as she walked out of the room and back into the living room. "What do you think?"

Mercy pointed to the floor.

"Do you like it?"

A grin bloomed on the child's face revealing two deep dimples.

"In that case, _Mamá _just might have to go to work too."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky held a plastic container one thumb wide and two thumbs deep full of syrup. He'd already let the butter melt on his pancakes and even requested extra. Now that all of it had sufficiently soaked in, he began to lazily drizzle the maple river over his hotcakes while Ashley watched. "Sure you don't want any?" he asked. He was doing his best to be uninterested, but his frustration at her stubbornness was rapidly building.

"Nope."

Ricky felt his brows attempt to knit together but held them back. He ran his index finger over the inside of the container, catching the syrup stuck on the walls, and gave his finger a long lick, then he tossed the container into a pile with the empty butter containers. He carefully angled his plastic fork and knife, cutting the pancake pile first into strips and then again into squares as evenly as fluffy round shapes could be turned into squares.

"This is embarrassing."

"You could just let me buy you breakfast."

"Not for me," Ashley glared, "for you. I haven't worked out what your motive is yet, but you should know that it's not your job to save everyone all the time. I'm not a damsel in distress and frankly, I'm offended that you're acting to the contrary. I don't know if you've noticed yet, but this," she said, gliding her fingers along the perimeter of the square table, "is not round and you're not a knight in shining armor."

"Fine. Fine! I give up. And…I'm sorry. You're my friend, Ash. I'm not trying to humiliate you, but I guess sometimes that happens when we care about people."

Ashley cracked a sliver of a smile. "Good thing you're not a parent then." She traced her fingers in invisible shapes on the surface of the table. "Hey," she said, using the voice she did when she was about to change a subject, "next time you randomly pick me up before ten in the morning, _I_ choose the place."

"Oh?" He stuffed a forkful of drippy pancake into his mouth and wiped his wet chin with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, after making me swing a bat, I'd like to see you attempt a pirouette in pointe."

"Ballet?"

"Yep."

"Thought so," he nodded. "Sounds like ballet. Why did you stop doing it?"

"Several reasons. One being that I felt like my dad was flirting with my instructor, another was that I loathed taking lessons with Lauren, and third…"

"Third?"

Ashley shook her head and looked down at the table. She suddenly snatched the hash brown off his tray. "Since you're not eating it," she said before taking a bite.

Ricky took another bite, trying his hardest not to look pleased in succeeding – at least minimally – at getting his friend something for breakfast. If situations were reversed, he knew he'd feel the same in her shoes, but it didn't make him worry any less.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian awoke to the sound of the doorbell followed by a couple of anxious knocks. She put one hand on the couch pillow she was laying on to push herself up, only to realize there was a small pool of drool there. She wiped it and then wiped the side of her mouth in disgust.

"Adrian, open the door! I don't have a key, remember?"

Adrian trudged over to the door and pulled it open only for Ben to burst out laughing. "What?" she glared.

"Your hair," he said while stepping inside. He reached out to smooth it. "What have you been doing? It's all mussed."

Adrian locked the door behind him. "I spent all day making lists and doing math and going over expenses and how to save on said expenses. Or almost all day. That stupid internet connection kept going in and out. And then there was Mercy who was constantly getting bored. I had to take her outside for a few hours and let her play in the backyard." She let loose a little grin. "There's a backyard. And a swing set!"

"That was mine," Ben laughed. "I'm not sure how sturdy is it though."

"Mercy liked it well enough. It didn't collapse on her."

"Well that's comforting."

"No, I made sure it was fine."

"What? You swung on it yourself for a while?"

"What's wrong with that?"

Ben held back his laughter. "O–K." He looked around. "Where is the little Princess, anyway?"

"Asleep in her playpen. That's probably not the best place for her to be sleeping though."

"She's already asleep," Ben said quietly. "And it's just one night…"

Adrian cocked her head to the side. "You're asking me to stay over?"

"Why not? I'm off tomorrow, we can sleep in…break in the bed."

Adrian smirked. "We're not breaking in the bed."

"Why not?"

"I'm too tired. And we don't have a condom."

"I probably have a condom." He reached around for his back pocket, but Adrian stopped him.

"Oh no, the last time you pulled a condom out of your wallet we ended up with Mercy."

"It's not old, I swear."

"Call me superstitious, but no."

"Fine." Ben pressed his hands to her waist. "What if you take a shower with me?"

"I didn't bring any clothes with me."

"Now you're just being difficult."

"And you're just being horny."

Ben sighed. "Spoon with me?"

Adrian wound her arms around his neck. "I suppose we can do that. But…"

"What?"

"On the couch."

"The couch? When we have a perfectly good bed down the hall?"

"I know, but it just doesn't feel right sleeping in that bed before we've officially moved in."

"So there's going to be an official?"

"I don't know yet. We're far from done talking. But for now…I'm not ruling out the possibility. So, what were you saying about spooning?"

Ben suddenly scooped Adrian up and laughed at her yelping screech. He carried her over to the couch and laid her down, then he laid down behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist until he was holding her hand.


	14. Rules Of Estrangement

**A/N: **This is really late because I was sick this week and on top of it I had two midterms, but…Welcome back, Mr. President! And special shout outs to Maryland, Maine, and Washington for approving marriage equality!

**Rules Of Estrangement**

"I've heard horror stories about summer school and now I understand why. I think the teacher actually hates being here more than the students, if that's possible. I can't believe we have to suffer through another two months of this."

Heather slipped her arm around Grace's shoulders. "Learn to sleep with your eyes open."

"People actually do that?"

"If you're asking if they have the power to control it, I don't know, but I have done it before when I've micronapped."

"Micronapped?"

"Basically pulled an all nighter – or a few – and then been so tired from sleep deprivation that I've fallen asleep for short bursts of time without even noticing it, but I somehow still manage to look awake and keep taking notes."

"Really?"

"Not good notes, mind you. It's all gibberish. I once ended up writing 'she knows' on my math notes and had no idea what that was in reference to because I don't remember doing it." Heather shrugged. "If you don't believe me, look it up. Micronapping is actually a thing, although the freaky notes are unique to me so far as I know."

They arrived at Grace's Prius and she unlocked it with her keypad. "Hey, how much homework do you have?"

"Too much."

"Do you want to come over and study with me?"

Heather climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the belt around herself. "I have to call get the stamp of approval from Margaret or Shakur first. They're a little hard ass about that. Ah, the woes of a problem child."

"Do you have a cell phone?"

"Nope. I haven't graduated with Ricky's stage of 'good behavior' yet."

Grace yanked her phone out of her purse and tossed it to Heather. "Use mine."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky padded about Heather's bedroom, picking up a bowl with a fork in it that had bits of dried macaroni and cheese and a layer of solidified golden grease along the walls of the bowl. He balanced it on a plate that dried barbeque sauce scars along its surface and then picked up a glass that had a little bit of milk at the bottom and was starting to give off a foul odor. Holding his breath, he carried the bounty down to the kitchen where he dropped them into the sink, turned on the water, and poured a quarter sized blob of lemon dish soap under the stream. The house phone rang and Ricky quickly washed his hands, dried them, and caught the receiver on the third ring. The caller I.D. flashed familiarly. "Grace?"

"Yo, Underwood. Is your mom home?"

Ricky glared at the charger for the cordless. "No, why?"

"I thought she was off today. Did she go into work?"

"She's out getting groceries for dinner."

"Oh."

"What do you want?"

"Grace invited me over to study. You think that'd be cool with them?"

Ricky huffed. "I can't speak for them, have you tried Margaret's cell?"

"Not yet."

"Well I'd suggest that first and then if you can't get a hold of her, try Shakur's."

"Sweet, thanks!"

"And–" He heard the click of the disconnection and snorted like a bull. "–clean up your own dishes next time!" The cordless phone landed back in its charger with a plastic screech. Dishes were one of his regular chores and after four separate times of having to hunt down dishes turned petri in Heather's room, he was ready to request a revamp of household duties.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I could ask Mr. Molina if I could start tutoring at the middle school again, but that's pennies in the big picture."

Ben sat on the couch in the condo, staring at the screen on his girlfriend's laptop. "There have to be_ some_ job openings around here, right? Isn't there a website you could go to or something? Craig's List?"

"I wouldn't be able to start a job until after I get back from New York at the earliest."

"So you start looking as soon as you get back. That's still a couple weeks before school starts."

Adrian sat down beside him on the couch with a strawberry banana SoBe in hand. "And what if I don't find anything, like last time?"

"We'll deal with it then?"

"Ben."

"We don't have to make a decision yet, so we'll deal with it when the time comes."

Adrian shook her SoBe and then watched as the pink liquid settled again, the bottle half full. "You're too optimistic."

"You're too pessimistic."

"How did we end up together again?"

"Because I injected a little optimism into your pessimism?"

Adrian stifled a snort. "Only because you couldn't contain your optimism."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"It is when it costs us money."

"Oh," Ben whined, "and we were doing so well before you had to bring up money again."

"It all comes back to money in the end."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Are you sure you don't want anything?"

Heather held up a can of Sprite. "No, this is great." She took a slurp and set it down on the table they were studying at. "I always wondered what it would be like to be rich enough to have a guest house."

"We're not rich, far from it."

"You're looking good from where I'm sitting." Heather turned around in her chair, surveying the whole of the Bowmans' guest house: a kitchenette off to her left, two brown leather chairs behind a television and coffee table to her front, to the right of those were bunk beds in the corner of the room, a space of shelved wall for linens, and a tiny bathroom just around the corner from the kitchen. "Maybe I should've taken your mom up on her offer back when she asked, huh? It's like a studio apartment, but way nicer than the hell hole I was renting."

"Yeah, but it's haunted. At least according to Tom."

"Well that might not be such a bad thing, depending on who's doing the haunting. It's not Elvis, is it? Because between you and me, he was kind of my first crush growing up. I saw his picture on one of my granddad's old albums and I was head over heels."

Grace chuckled. "I've spent more nights out here than Tom and, sadly, I've never had any supernatural experiences, so I can't say."

"Dare you to spend Halloween out here with me!"

"Actually, that might be feasible," Grace said, setting her pencil down on her homework. "I've actually been thinking about asking my mom if I could move out of my room and in here."

"Seriously? You think your mom would actually go along with that?"

"I don't see why not. I don't sleep as comfortably in my room anymore anyway."

Heather looked at her Sprite can. "Is that where it –"

"Yeah."

Heather nodded. "Well," she looked around the guest house again, "it's got everything but a washer and dryer."

"There's actually one in the bathroom, behind the door. It's one of the ones where the washer and dryer are stacked on top of each other."

"Oh." Heather nodded. "Well, hell, what are you waiting for? Double your room space, woman!"

"I wouldn't really be doubling it," Grace sighed. "The biggest reason I was thinking it might be a good idea is because of the baby. I mean, where am I going to put a crib and changing table and all that stuff in my room?" She noticed the sudden dewy look in the redhead's eyes. "I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me –"

"It's cool," Heather argued. "Sometimes things just surprise you, even though they really shouldn't." She stared at the bunk beds. "Maybe if my parents had had a guest house…and, you know, if I had had different parents…" She wrapped her hands around her Sprite and was momentarily silent. "So you're really keeping it then?"

"Yeah…I think so." Grace bowed her head. "Most of the time I think about how this baby is half of me: part of my mom and part of my dad, who I'll never see again. Not on Earth, anyway. But then sometimes, when I'm lying in bed at night and I can't sleep, I start to think about: what if he or she is like Grant? What if she or he looks like him? Acts like him? Sounds like him? What do I do then? Will I suddenly find myself resenting or hating my own child because of what that monster did to me? And then I think: maybe adoption would be better? But I don't know if I'm strong enough to do what you did."

"Considering I hopped on the alcohol bandwagon, I'm not sure I can say I was really that strong after all."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"It's getting hot in here," Ashley said as she hopped off the last step leading into Ricky's basement bedroom.

Ricky was lying on his bed with his ear buds in his ears, connected to the iPod that was lying beside him. He hit the pause button with his thumb. "The A/C's on."

"That's not what I meant." Ashley sauntered over to her friend's bed and sat down. "You're pouting. _Simmering._ What's the deal? And where's Heather? She should've been the one exclaiming, 'Is that my cue to take off all my clothes?' when I walked in."

Ricky sat up and pulled out the ear buds, but he didn't respond to her.

"_Oh,"_ Ashley realized, "Heather's the_ reason_ for the simmering. What did you do?"

"What did _I_ do? Why are you assuming I did something?"

"Because you have a tendency to be an ass."

"As if you don't."

"But we're not talking about me right now."

"I didn't do anything," he said scathingly. "_She_ did. She keeps leaving her filthy dishes all over the place as if we have maid service or something. In what world is that acceptable behavior?"

"You really haven't had siblings in a while, have you?"

"What does having siblings have to do with anything? Pick up after yourself: it's common decency."

"She probably got into her habits when she was living on her own. You have to let her know she's pissing you off instead of just letting it bubble beneath the surface. That's what Amy and my mother do. I _hate_ it!"

"So you always tell it like it is?"

"If it's the truth, why wouldn't I?"

"No wonder your house is always a war zone."

"I can tell her for you if you want."

"No!" Ricky raised his hands. "Don't worry about it, I'll deal with it. You just let me handle it!"

"Suit yourself." Ashley picked up her friend's iPod and tossed it between her palms like a ball.

"Ricky!"

Ashley and Ricky turned their heads towards the stairs at the same time. "Down here!" He waited until he heard his foster mother's footsteps and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting upright by the time Margaret had made it halfway down the stairs.

"I just got an emergency call and I need to run down to the free clinic to pick up some paperwork. I have a chicken in the oven and potatoes on the stove. Can you keep an eye on them for me?"

"Sure. You want me to mash them if they're ready before you get back?"

Margaret glanced at Ashley. "It's up to you, I know you have company right now."

Ashley smiled. "We don't mind."

Margaret nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Thank you!"

"Got any chives?" Ashley asked when Margaret had retreated back up the stairs.

"Maybe, why?"

"Because you haven't eaten mashed potatoes until you've tried my grandfather's had a mashed potatoes and chives recipe." Her smile faded. "He's gone now, but it's still my favorite way to eat potatoes."

"My mom just went shopping a few hours ago," he said. "Let's go find out what she got."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Sounds like you've been spending a lot of time with Heather lately," Adrian said into her cell phone. It was currently cupped between her cheek and her shoulder as she stood in the kitchen of the condo, kneading a slab of dough.

"Well we're both in summer school," Grace's voice replied a little defensively.

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing! Just an observation, that's all. But I have to admit: I do miss you."

"That's good to know, because with all the time you've been spending over at the condo lately I wouldn't have suspected."

Adrian frowned as she hunted around for a knife. "Don't be that way, Grace. I haven't forgotten you, I've just had a lot going on with Ben. You know how that is."

"No, actually, I don't know." A swelling sigh ciphered through the speaker. "I don't have a baby and a boyfriend and a whole new life."

Adrian let her head fall back. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I didn't realize I was neglecting my best friend. Look, when do you have a free day? I'll clear my schedule and we'll get together then, okay? I want to spend a whole uninterrupted day with you before I go to New York. What're you doing this weekend?"

"I've got plans with Heather this weekend. What about next weekend?"

"Isn't that the Fourth of July?"

"Sunday is."

Adrian bit down on her glossy lip. "Okay, we'll plan for Saturday. Is that good with you?"

There was just breathing at first, then a low: "Yes."

"_Perfecto._ I'll see you then, Blondie."

"Yeah, see you."

There was a click in Adrian's ear. She laid a series of four strips of dough into the bottom of a glass pan and then moved to the sink to wash off her hands and set her phone down. The tone of her friend's voice had made her uncomfortable. She wanted to believe it was just mood swings, but the truth of the matter was that, as the thought about it, Grace was probably right about Adrian neglecting her since school had gotten out for the summer. Being so absorbed in the condo, there really hadn't been much time to see or even talk to her best friend. She poured a layer of canned tomato sauce, cooked up hamburger meat, and a thick sheet of shredded mozzarella cheese down over her dough strips, feeling guiltier with each layer. The idea of inviting the blonde over for dinner crossed her mind, but was quickly shoved to the back burner as soon as Mercy started to howl from the other room.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Heather and Grace looked towards the door at the same time. "Do stalkers knock?" the redhead asked. But as soon as the words stepped off the cliff of her lip, she scrunched up her face like a pug. "I didn't mean –"

Grace raised her hand. "It's okay." She moved to the door and paused as Heather's words replayed against the memory of waking up to the sound of the doorbell on the night of the attack. She quietly angled herself to view out the peek hole and then opened the door. "Adrian?"

"Adrian?" Heather echoed. She moved quickly to join the blonde at the door.

"Your mom said you were out here. Can I come in?"

"Uh," Grace stepped aside and waved the Latina in. "You're already here, so why not? But _why_ are you here? I thought I told you –"

"You did and I thought about leaving it at that, but I realized I couldn't." Adrian set her purse down and nodded towards Heather. "I'm sorry for intruding, but then again…I'm not. Grace, you basically told me you feel like I've been ignoring you in favor of Ben and everything going on with us. As I thought about it, I realized you're right. I'd spent hours working on this homemade lasagna to eat with Ben tonight and I had everything laid out on the table when he got home from work, but instead of sitting down to eat with him, I had him babysit because _this_ was more important. Our friendship already suffered once when a – a –" she struggled for the right word "–male came between us and I'm not going to let that happen again. I'm sorry."

Heather looked to the silent blonde. "Well I'm convinced. If you don't forgive her, I just might." She mimed the motion of tipping her hat. "Clearly you gals have some things to hammer out, so I'm just going to go –"

"Heather, you don't have to do that," Adrian interrupted.

"Nah, I really do." She patted Adrian's shoulder and then added to Grace, "I'm going to go track down your mom to find out about using your house phone to see if I can get a ride home." She grabbed her backpack from the table. "It's been fun though. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

Grace nodded a bit warily and waved without verbalizing a goodbye. She moved to the door and watched until Heather had walked back into the main house, then shut and locked the guest house door before turning back to her best friend. "Maybe I overreacted? I'm sorry too."

"You didn't. A lot of things are happening all at once right now and I haven't done a quality job of prioritizing."

"Tell me about it." Grace motioned to the leather chairs. "You want to sit down?"

Adrian smiled, dropped her purse onto the floor beside one of the chairs, and collapsed into the seat. "Hey, these are pretty nice."

"They were my grandfather's. My dad's dad," Grace smiled wistfully. "He made furniture for a living. We have a lot of his pieces around the house."

Adrian rubbed her hand along the smooth molasses colored armrest. "Is he retired? I wouldn't mind having something like this."

"He died when I was a baby." Grace smiled sadly. "I don't have any conscious memories of him, just some pictures above the mantle and in my baby book."

"I'm sorry," Adrian said immediately.

Grace shook her head. "It's okay. I never knew him – or my uncle – so, as ruthless as it might sound, I don't miss them."

Adrian quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't know you had an uncle. Was it," she paused to collect her thoughts, "was it some kind of accident? Car accident?"

"Yes and no. My uncle committed suicide. Don't ask me why, my dad never talked about it. I didn't even know I had an uncle until I saw him in an old family photo album and asked my mom who he was. It was years before my grandparents passed away though. From what I'm told, it was a carbon monoxide leak. They both passed away in their sleep."

"Well this conversation has become uncomfortable surprisingly quickly, hasn't it?" Adrian laughed awkwardly and pushed herself off the chair. "I know you said you had plans this weekend, but what about tonight? Did you finish your homework? I know my mom's working tonight and I haven't been kicked out yet, so what do you say? You and me: girls' night in? We can rent the first two _Twilight_ movies."

"You hate _Twilight_."

"Just Edward. And Bella. And…all right, I _do_ hate it, but have you seen Taylor Lautner's shirtless torso in the rain? _¡Muy caliente!_"

"Can't argue with that," Grace agreed.

"The only caveat is that I have to be back to babysit Mercy before ten tomorrow morning so Ben can leave for work, but…what do you say, Blondie?"

Grace was quiet for a while, then she slowly began to nod. "The only thing is: why don't we just stay here? I don't think my mom will mind. I kind of wanted to run my ideas about the guest house by you anyway."

Grace got up and moved to the kitchen, retrieving a couple of cans of Ginger Ale from the fridge. She rinsed off the tops, popped them, and handed one to Adrian. "Thanks for coming over."

Adrian clinked her can against Grace's and took a fizzy sip. "Thanks for keeping my priorities in check."

"Speaking of priorities, I think we should go inside and make sure Heather's got a ride home."

"Better yet, why don't we just drop her off? We can rent movies on the way back."

Grace bumped her tin against Adrian's again.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Did you have something you wanted to say to me, Underwood?"

Ricky looked over the edge of his laptop and glared. "Yeah: knock before entering."

"Oooh," Heather mocked. "Tough Boy!"

Ricky closed his laptop and pushed it aside. "You're not just a house guest anymore, you live here, so I expect you to have the same decency as the rest of the people who live here."

Heather rolled her eyes and dropped a handwritten note onto the foot of Ricky's bed. "Don't get your briefs in a bunch. I'll knock if you're going to get that pissy about it."

"And?"

"And what?"

Ricky picked up the note.

Heather snorted. "And I'll try harder with the dishes."

"Don't try. Take a tip from Nike and just _do _it."

"I'm afraid I don't have a snappy slogan for you, but while we're being honest: why don't _you_ stop leaving the seat up when you take a leak? Having to touch that to put it down is disgusting!"

"I've been leaving the seat up for years."

"Yeah, and as you so sweetly pointed out: now you're not the only one who has to use that bathroom." She snorted. "Get off your high horse, Rick." Heather passed Margaret as she went back up the stairs.

Ricky turned his glare from his friend to his foster mother. "Here to say 'I told you so'?"

Margaret waited to speak until she heard Heather's footsteps on the upper level of the house. "Having roommate troubles?"

Ricky fell back into his pillow. "Dance around the bush why don't you."

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not here to gloat."

"Then what _are_ you here for?"

"To find out if you've resolved your issues with Heather…although I suppose I have my answer now."

"You and Dad were assuming there were issues even before there were any."

"You're right." Margaret pushed Ricky's feat out of the way and seated herself beside him. She picked up the note. "Because your father and I were fostering children long before you and we became familiar with the routine, that's why we asked Dr. Fields to speak with you. Kids aren't always very open to discussing their issues with each other," she waggled the note, "let alone their parents."

"It's just a few stupid things," Ricky sighed, easing his walls down. "Give us time and we'll get over it. Just – just let me blow off my steam right now."

"It's not that simple. When you live with someone, that steam will build up until you _pop_." She flexed her fingers to emphasize the word. "You have to be open about the things that are bothering you."

"And what does that accomplish? Yelling and door slamming?"

"Perhaps."

"So that's preferable to the cold shoulder?"

"Not necessarily. But if you don't talk about your issues that can be even more detrimental to a relationship than if you do." Margaret patted Ricky on the leg. "Let me know if things get worse. But hopefully you'll be able to settle things without upsetting the apple cart too much." She started to head back up the stairs and then paused. "And Ricky?"

"What?"

"Don't forget to put the seat down."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Hello?"

"Amy, hey, it's Ben. You busy?"

"Uh, actually, yeah. I have Jimmy on the other line. Did you need something?"

Ben sat down on the empty bed in what he hoped would be his and Adrian's future bedroom. He was balancing a plate of hot lasagna on his lap and trying to cut off a corner bite with his fork while he held his cell phone to his ear with his other hand. "No, not really. I was just…bored. Sorry to interrupt. I'll catch you later."

"Sorry," Amy's voice squeaked.

"Bye." Ben dropped the phone onto the mattress and watched _Disconnected_ flash on the screen. He shoved a wad of Adrian's lasagna into his mouth and savored the cacophony of basil, parmesan, tomato, garlic, and mozzarella among others. He set his plate on his pillow and rolled over to grab a paper lying on the other side of the bed: Adrian's list of expenses. The first side of the page was typed out and bullet pointed, but when he turned it over only half the page was typed, while several additional bullet points had been added in pencil and Adrian's handwriting beneath them. Ben sprawled out on his back and held the paper up above his face, staring hard at the words until they all began to blur together and he felt the lull of sleep drawing him in.


	15. Who Do You Distrust?

**A/N: **Happy (Early) Thanksgiving to all my U.S. readers!

_**Turning Tables**_

**Who Do You Distrust?**

"I'm gonna miss you so much," Ben whispered against his girlfriend's lips.

Adrian pressed her forehead to Ben's. "I'm gonna miss you too, Benny."

"_¡Mamá!"_

Adrian reluctantly pulled away from Ben and bent down in front of her daughter's stroller. She pitched forward to slather Mercy's head and face with kisses, much to the little girl's bubbly delight. "And _mamá _is gonna miss you too,_ Preciosista._" She ruffled her little girl's downy hair and stood up again.

"I'm not too late, am I?" Grace's voice called amongst the crowd.

"Nope, I've still got a few minutes!" Adrian smiled as her best friend approached and embraced the blonde in a hug. "I'm glad you could make it."

"If I hadn't had to stop to use the bathroom so many times I would've been here a lot sooner."

"I'd like to tell you it gets better, but…"

Grace made a face. "So you're going to Skype me every night, right?"

"I'll do my best," Adrian promised. "But Mr. Molina did say that the program is very intensive, so that'll have to come before everything else." She raised her finger, pointing to the stroller. "Except for that little bundle of mischief."

Grace hugged her friend again. "Well good luck and don't forget to take pictures! I've always wanted to see New York."

"You and Ben," Adrian snorted. "He already loaded me down with his video camera. Like I needed any more luggage!"

"Adrian, we've got to go!"

Adrian stiffened at the noise of her mother's voice. Her eyes followed the sound of it and her mother appeared from around the corner. She sighed, still not on the best speaking terms with Cindy, but the latter had made arrangements to get herself on Adrian's flight to New York so she could help her find her dorm and familiarize herself with her route before Sunday orientation and the start of official classes on Monday. "Looks like it's time."

Ben watched Adrian and Grace hug again, then he watched his girlfriend give their daughter another kiss on the nose, and finally he grabbed her by the arm as she rose and pulled her into another deep kiss, savoring the black cherry taste of her lip gloss and the coconut smell of her conditioner. "Call me as soon as you get the chance. Doesn't matter how late, I'll be up."

Adrian spoke against his lips: "You're insane if you think I wouldn't."

"Adrian!"

Adrian reluctantly untangled herself from Ben's embrace. "I'll see you in four weeks!"

Ben waited with Grace, both of them watching as Cindy walked Adrian up to the security checkpoint and neither of them moved until Adrian had moved through the metal detector and nearly out of sight before she turned around and waved, prompting each of them to wave back until they couldn't see her anymore.

"_¿Mamá?"_

"_Mamá_ will be back soon," Ben assured. He pressed his hands to the handle of the stroller and turned it around. "Did you come here by yourself?" he asked, glancing at the blonde.

"My mom's waiting in the parking lot. Why?"

"I was just thinking maybe we could grab a bite or something?"

Grace raised a serious eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be _saving_ money?"

Ben winced. "Right."

Grace patted her friend's back. "I should too," she sighed.

Ben careened through the automatic doors onto the busy sun drenched sidewalk and waited at the head of the crosswalk until a couple of cars had stopped on either side. "I can at least walk you to your car though, right?"

Grace nodded. "I'd appreciate that."

"So Adrian mentioned that you were thinking of moving into the guest house. How's that going?"

"Slowly. I finally ran it by my mom and she agreed that it was a good idea, but…she wants to get a security system installed first."

"They aren't cheap."

"Oh-ho! _Now_ you're being money conscious."

Ben shrugged. "I just remember the first time my mom opened the bill for the security system on the mansion. It wasn't pretty. I don't remember my parents ever fighting all that much, but she was furious that he hadn't told her how much it cost. She thought he was overpaying. It was one of the loudest – and longest – fights I ever remember them having. She gave him an iced shoulder for weeks."

"Well my mom's been looking into some options, so we'll see. Frankly, I think I'd feel a little more comfortable with one, especially since nobody will be in the guest house with me. Except for, you know…" She touched her gently protruding belly.

Ben nodded as they arrived at Kathleen's car. He quickly waved to the elder blonde before opening the passenger door for his friend. "If you need any help moving furniture or painting or whatever, give me a ring."

Grace blew a kiss to Mercy and gave Ben a quick hug. "Thanks, Ben."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Hey, Underwood, you've got a suitor."

Ricky glanced up to the top of the stairs. The door was shut but his attention had been caught by a bony knock and Heather's loud voice. "It's unlocked!" he hollered back.

A moment later the handle twisted and someone decidedly _not_ Heather descended the stairs.

Ricky gawked. "What are_ you_ doing here?"

"We need to talk," Zoe said decidedly.

"I haven't spoken to you in months so why would I have anything to say to you now? I have no interest in you anymore, Zoe, and I won't have any interest in you in the future either."

"The feeling's mutual."

"So what are you doing here?"

"You need to get tested."

"Tested?"

"For Chlamydia."

Ricky felt his stomach begin to synch like a single string yanked out of place on a carefully knitted weave. "Why would _I_ need to get tested?"

"Because I tested positive last month."

"That's too bad for you, but I haven't been with you in over a year."

Zoe shook her head. "Chlamydia doesn't always show symptoms. Fifty percent of men and seventy to eighty percent of women don't even know they're infected."

"You really think I could have gone for a _year_ without knowing I was infected?" he said sarcastically.

"I did."

"We always used a condom," Ricky argued.

"Vaginal transmission is only _one _way to get infected."

Ricky felt his stomach squeeze a little tighter. "So you've known for a month and you're only telling me _now_?"

"I thought you should know."

"Yeah, nice. _Thanks._"

"Look, I – I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you before. I figured you probably wouldn't give me the time of day anyway. But for what it's worth, I hope you're clean."

Ricky scowled. "Nothing."

"What?"

"It's worth nothing."

Zoe nodded. "All right…There's nothing else I can say right now, other than that the ball's in your court then. Bye, Ricky. And…good luck."

Ricky waited until Zoe had left his room before the scowl on his face dissolved. He quickly grabbed his laptop and typed _Chlamydia_ into the Google search engine. Point twelve seconds later he had fifteen-and-a-half million results.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"That's interesting."

"What?"

Kathleen motioned her daughter over to the computer. "I found what looks like it might be a good deal from this security installation business downtown and when I started Googling the owner to see if I could find any customer reviews I was found this news article instead."

"Is it bad?"

"Depends on how you look at it. It says his daughter was caught smoking marijuana last year and…kicked out of the Young Healers program!"

"What?" Grace blinked. "No way! Does it have a picture?"

Kathleen scrolled down the article. "A mug shot."

Grace gawked. "I can't believe it. _That_ was my old roommate!"

"That was Dylan?" Kathleen mused. "No wonder her father is offering such low ball prices for his security systems. That must have been pretty damaging for his PR, especially in this town. Maybe I will look into him after all."

Grace blinked in surprise. "Why?"

"Because his daughter was the one caught smoking, not him. If he's still offering quality work and equipment for the best prices, I don't see why I wouldn't at least look into the possibility."

"Well for everyone's sake, I hope the apple's fallen far from the tree."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky sat in his car outside the free clinic, debating whether or not to get out. He'd watched about four or five people enter and three exit during the time he'd been sitting there and his legs were starting to feel cramped. He finally got out when there was nobody in sight and made a mad dash for the door. He entered cautiously, looking around for any familiar faces as he walked up to the counter, but he saw none. "Uh…excuse me?"

"Can I help you?" the thirty-something shoulder length blonde behind the counter asked.

"Uh, yeah, I, uh…I need to get tested for some, um…Chlamydia. And…anything else someone should normally get tested for."

"Sure, not a problem." She produced a clipboard with several forms attached to it. "Just have a seat right over there and fill this out. Once you're done, let me know, and we'll get you together with a counselor as soon as possible."

"Thanks," Ricky awkwardly replied as he took the clipboard. He started to turn towards the seat that the receptionist had directed him to when he saw Margaret walk out from one of the back rooms, staring down at a clipboard of her own. He instantly let out a frustrated sigh and regretted it as soon as Margaret heard and looked right at him. "What's wrong with me?" he hissed, closing his eyes.

Margaret shook her head, releasing a sigh of her own. "I hope nothing."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Nervous?" Cindy seated herself down beside her daughter.

Adrian was busy staring out of the window at the little varying squares of color she could see below. "I'm fine."

"You can't stay mad at me forever, Adrian."

"Is that a wager? Because I could sure use the money for rent."

"A – are you telling me that you've decided to move in with Ben?"

"No, I'm not telling you anything because nothing's been decided yet."

"Ben's still just a boy, Adrian. You're the older one in the relationship and you have to be the responsible one as well. Think logically: compared to most teen parents, you have a very enviable situation. Do you really want to throw that all away for something that may or may not work out?"

Adrian held a steely gaze out the window, refusing to answer her mother.

"Adrian, look at me." Cindy touched her daughter's wrist, but the latter snatched it away.

"You're break's almost over. You should use the restroom before people start bombarding you with requests for pillows and wine." There was silence for several minutes before Adrian finally heard the seat next to her squeak as Cindy got up and left. Adrian waited a few minutes longer until she was sure that her mother would not be back, then she opened her purse and pulled out the key to the condo which Ben had insisted she take with her the night before. She set the small, cold object into her palm and curled her fingers around it, infusing it with her own body heat.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I would have come with you," Margaret said as she sat beside her son in the waiting room chairs.

"I don't need my _mommy_ to come with me to get these kinds of tests done," Ricky spat. "And why are you here, anyway? Today's not your volunteer day."

"Well I switched days with someone this week, all right? And you know you could've gone over to Shakur's office, he would've had these tests done for you."

"He's a surgeon! I'm not having anything cut off. I hope." Ricky pressed his hand to his forehead. "I wasn't planning on telling my mommy or my daddy. At least I'd hoped I wouldn't have to. Goddamn Zoe."

"Zoe? I thought you had stopped seeing Zoe last summer?"

"Yeah, well, she told me she tested positive for Chlamydia and that I could be infected too without even knowing it."

Margaret nodded. "She's right." She frowned a little. "Have you been with anyone since Zoe? Or…around the same time?"

Ricky glared. "If you're asking whether or not I could've infected Adrian, the answer's no. She had STD and STI testing done when she was pregnant and she was clean."

"Well the good news is that if you are positive, Chlamydia is easily treatable."

"But?"

"It has the potential to cause long term side effects."

"Like?"

"Sterility, for one. Although that's much more common in women than in men because Chlamydia effects the uterus and fallopian tubes. Long term effects of Chlamydia are actually quite rare in men."

"But not impossible."

"No, not impossible." Margaret looked her son up and down. "You know, for this test to be accurate you can't have had sex for –"

"Like I just told you, I haven't had sex since _last year. _I swear."

Margaret nodded. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Yeah, well, I'll be glad for you to go now."

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait for you? We could grab some dinner, just the two of us, and –"

"No," he interrupted decidedly. "I'll be fine, Mom."

Margaret inhaled deeply. "All right. But if you change your mind –"

"I won't."

"Not even lunch? I'll have my lunch break in just under a half an hour –"

"Look! You volunteer here, so you're probably comfortable hanging out here, but I'm kind of in a hurry to leave as soon as possible. So if you don't mind…"

Margaret held up her hands in defeat. "All right, all right." She stood up and raised her finger. "You just be sure to let me know when you get the results."

"Yeah, fine." Ricky slouched into his chair as Margaret began to walk away, then a new thought slithered into his mind: "When will that be?"

Margaret paused and instinctively looked at her wristwatch. "The lab we use is generally pretty quick, but it's not open on the weekends, so they won't get it until Monday, possibly even Tuesday. After that, they usually have the results for Chlamydia testing between three and seven days later, depending on how busy they are."

"Yeah, well, great. Whatever. I read it's unlikely that I would've gone this long without seeing symptoms anyway."

"Ricky, you'll be fine. You're right, it is unlikely, but even if you do test positive, Chlamydia is easily treatable with antibiotics."

"And that's all well and good unless there's some kind of long term complications."

"Let's just take this one step at a time, okay?"

"Great, so just go then and let me get this over with!"

Margaret bowed her head. "You let me know as soon as those results come in."

Ricky dropped his head into his hand as soon as Margaret walked away.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Alice was seated on Henry's lap and the latter had situated himself in Ben's desk chair. She was playfully swatting Henry's wandering hands every few moments. "So what did you want to talk to us about so badly?"

"I was wondering if you might be interested in – or at least open to the possibility of – babysitting?"

"Babysitting?" Henry echoed skeptically.

"You'd trust us with Mercy?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Let me rephrase," Alice replied. "You'd trust _him_ with Mercy?" She pointed her thumb over her shoulder at her boyfriend.

"Come on," Ben pleaded. "Can we put all the joking aside for just a few minutes?"

Alice nodded. "Okay, fine. So, babysitting…but, I thought you said that you're dad is still paying Briella until and unless you agree to move in with Adrian?"

"He is."

"So why are you talking to us about this?"

"I don't mean over the summer, I mean in the future, like during the school year."

Alice glared. "You do realize that during the school year we also have school, don't you?"

"I don't mean all the time. Just, maybe here and there, you know? Come on, Alice! Please? I'm trying to look into all possibilities."

Henry and Alice exchanged conflicting looks. "I dunno, Ben. I've never really babysat before."

"You just sit with her, play with her, feed her, change her…it's not that hard, Henry. C'mon, you are my two best friends. Don't you think I should be able to entrust my daughter with you? It would just be for a few hours here and there."

"A _paid_ few hours?"

"I'm sure we could work something out."

"Have you talked about this with Adrian? Is she so trusting of us?"

"Of course she is. She knows how dependable you are; she trusts you. What do you say?"

Alice pressed her hand to Henry's open mouth. "I say we're going to have to talk about this, me and Hank, and we'll get back to you."

"Well that's really nice," Ben glared. "You can't even say yes to babysitting your best friend's daughter."

"We're not saying no, Ben, we're just saying we need time to think about it. It's not as small of a responsibility as you're making it out to be. This is a toddler we're talking about here."

"She's not toddling yet."

"She's already fourteen months," Alice replied. "It should be any time now. Most babies start walking between fourteen and fifteen months. I mean, geeze, she's already taken her first steps. And anyway, even if we did agree, what are you planning to do for a majority of the time?"

"I'm still working on that," he said glumly. "I've been looking into daycare options and private care, but it's all so expensive. If we even want to think about keeping Briella, even if we end up cutting back her hours, Adrian is going to _have_ to get a job."

"Having two jobs and being a high school senior? That's a lot to ask of someone, Ben."

"Adrian doesn't have two jobs."

Alice glared. "What do you call motherhood then? It's unpaid labor, Ben. That_ is_ a full time job."

"Well _I'm_ doing it: working, being a student, and being a dad. And Adrian's even more capable than I am."

"But she doesn't have to," Henry pointed out.

"If we want a life together she does."

"But you've still got a year before you have to take all that on."

"Who's side are you on?"

Henry lifted his hands. "Nobody's, I'm just saying I wouldn't do it if I was her."

"Well you're not, so the point's moot."

"_Hey,"_ Alice warned. "Keep the hackles down if you want us to agree to any future babysitting."

Ben glared. "If that's the way you want to play it, go ahead. Just remember that next time you ask me for a favor."

"By the time Alice and I are asking you to babysit, we'll be college graduates with secure financial futures."

Alice looked over her shoulder. "Since when did we decide we're having kids?"

Henry frowned. "Don't you want kids?"

Alice noted Ben's curious look and shook her head. "It's neither the time nor the place for this conversation, Hank."

"Looks like I'm not the only one with decisions to make about my future."

"Yeah, but unlike you, Henry and I aren't rushing into anything."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

The radio was up loud and Ricky stood out in the backyard throwing a baseball against the fence. It would hit, fall, bounce back, and then he'd catch it and throw it again. This happened for several minutes until finally he threw it a little too hard and instead of falling and bouncing, it hit the fence post and flew past Ricky until it lost momentum and finally landed on the ground, rolling to a stop in the grass.

A hand with black painted nails reached down and grabbed the ball and tossed it a few inches into the air only to catch it again. Ashley moved smoothly across the yard to Ricky and lightly pitched the ball back to him.

"How long have you been standing here?"

Ashley shrugged. "Lost track. My dad dropped me off on his way to the Bowmans', your mom said you were out here, and when I came out I knew better than to interrupt."

"Did she tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Ricky shook his head. "Never mind."

"Oh no, you can't just leave that hanging in the air, now you _have_ to tell me. What didn't Margaret say?"

"I don't want you to tell anyone."

Ashley used her finger to make an invisible _X_ over the left side of her chest.

Ricky led her over to a glass patio table and motioned for her to sit down opposite him. He set the baseball in front of him and began to roll it between his hands as he explained about Zoe's visit and his backfired attempt to secretly get tested at the free clinic.

"I guess it's a good thing we never slept together then, huh?"

"This isn't funny, Ash." He grabbed the baseball and threw it angrily at the fence. It hit and eventually landed in the grass but he didn't bother to get up to go retrieve it. "I'm so sick and tired of my past coming back to bite me in the ass! First Bob, then cheating, now this!"

"But you got through those things and you'll get through this too."

"What if it's positive?"

"What if it's not?" Ashley inched her hand across the table to lie on Ricky's.

"I won't get my hopes up."

"I know the feeling."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Hey."

"Hey."

"It's good to hear your voice."

Adrian smiled in the darkness. "Ditto."

"You sound exhausted."

"Yeah. Long flight; long fight."

"Uh oh. Us, again?"

"What else?" Adrian rolled over in bed and stared at the alarm clock by her bedside. The green numbers cast a faint illumination on the metal key lying in front of the clock. Adrian grabbed it and rubbed her fingers over it. "Still, I can't find the will to sleep."

"What time is it over there anyway?"

"Just after two-thirty in the morning. New York is three hours ahead of California. Hopefully I don't sleep through my alarm in the morning."

"You'll be fine," Ben's voice assured.

"I wish you were here to tell me that in person."

"Why don't you put me on speaker?"

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Adrian rolled her eyes but complied with the request. "Now what?"

"Set the phone on the pillow beside you."

"Okay…"

"And close your eyes."

Feeling silly, but with no one there to see, Adrian did as Ben asked. She laid the key down beside the phone as well. "Now what?"

"Now just listen to my voice and imagine that I'm there lying next to you."

Adrian touched one hand to her cheek and tried to imagine it as Ben's hand in the dark.

"Adrian?"

"Yeah?"

"Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Benny."


	16. Mirrors, Mirrors, On The Wall

**A/N: **Updating and then I'm off to do my Black Friday shopping. (Hopefully I don't get trampled.)

_**Turning Tables**_

**Mirrors, Mirrors, On The Wall**

"'…and they called her the Fairest of Them All.'" Ben set down the _Snow White_ fairytale book he was holding and peered over into Mercy's crib. "But don't take that the wrong way: just because they called her that and just because she had alabaster skin doesn't mean she's prettier than anyone who_ doesn't_ have white skin. I don't want you to grow up thinking you or your _mamá _are inferior because of the way you look, you hear? You are _bella_. And that would be 'beautiful' in Italian. _Bella_, beautiful; got it?"

Mercy stared up at her father with heavy lids. She lifted her tired arms as if expecting to be picked up, but was given a kiss on the cheek instead and then handed Mr. Bear. She cuddled up next to Mr. Bear and within minutes she was out like a light.

"That's a good idea," Ben yawned. He deposited the book on the dresser and turned out lamp. "Goodnight, Mercy." The pale pink nightlight immediately popped on and Ben shimmied quietly out the door, careful to shut it without waking his daughter. He padded back to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed without even bothering to climb under the covers. Maybe five minutes later he vaguely recognized the lights go out in his room but he didn't have the energy to roll over.

"Goodnight, Benjamin."

His father's words floated like vapor in the air: he could hear them, he knew what they meant, but he couldn't quite grasp them. The next thing he heard was the soft click of his door shutting and he soon found his way into a dreamy slumber.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky was already up staring at the red coils inside the toaster as he waited for it to pop. He had his cell phone pressed to his ear, checking for any voicemails he might have missed.

"You have: zero new voice messages."

Ricky slapped the phone down on the counter just as Margaret shuffled into the room in her robe and slippers. The toaster popped, shooting up two blueberry bagel halves. Ricky paid no attention to the sting of his fingers as he grabbed the halves and dropped them onto a plate from the drainer.

"You're in a bad mood," Margaret observed as she retrieved a box of tea from the cupboard.

"I thought you said those tests were supposed to come back in three to seven days?"

"Three to seven business days."

"Today's business day _eight_."

"Well the clinic has been busy this week. And if you'd like to be technical about it, they only received the tests Monday, so seven business days from Monday would be today. Just be patient, Ricky. I know it's hard, but _try_."

"That's easy for you to say, you're not the one sitting in the hot seat." He took a knife out of the dishwasher and used it to slather his bagel halves with cream cheese. "And what happened to all the blueberry cream cheese? You know that's my favorite."

"Apparently it's Heather's favorite too." Margaret pointed to the magnetized notepad on the fridge. "She wrote it on the shopping list a few days ago."

"Of course she did."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Tom! Grace! Can you both come downstairs for a few moments? I'd like to talk with you about something!"

Grace had just stepped out of the bathroom when she heard her mother's voice. She paused as she saw her brother's door open and she glanced suspiciously at Tom. "Do you know what this is about?"

Tom shrugged. "How w' I know?"

Grace crinkled her face. "That's her serious voice. That's her serious they-probably-won't-like-what-I-have-to-say voice."

"Wha' di' you do?"

"Me? Why would you assume I did something? What did _you _do?"

"I can hear you two!"

Grace folded her arms petulantly and stalked down the stairs. She found her mother in the kitchen with some freshly made banana nut bread on the table that explained the warm smell permeating the air. "What's this all about?"

Tom skirted around his sister and grabbed three pieces of banana nut bread, taking advantage of the fact that Kathleen was clearly sweating about whatever it was she had called them downstairs to a family meeting for.

"Could we all sit down for a moment?"

"I'm good standing."

"Grace," Kathleen intoned. _"Please."_

Grace withered into a seat and crossed one leg over the other. "What's going on?"

Kathleen moved around the island and leaned on it, refusing to sit down. "George and I have been talking about things."

"Wha' kin' of things?" Tom asked.

"The kind that involve big family decisions," Kathleen said carefully, looking pointedly at Grace.

"Like what?" Grace persisted. "You're not talking about getting remarried to him, are you?"

"No," Kathleen said, shaking her head emphatically. "Not remarried, not y – not remarried."

"Then wha_t_?" Tom asked, putting unneeded emphasis on his t.

Kathleen dropped her eyes. "Moving in together."

Grace waited for a reaction from her brother, but it never came. She realized he'd heard and understood, but was too busy enjoying his banana nut slices to form a response. She quickly went over a series of thoughts and dates in her head: it had been only about a month-and-a-half since the one year anniversary of her father's death. Plus, her mom had started seeing George long before that. On the other hand, she'd also been married to him even before her father. Still, it felt wrong. However, from what she'd been told, George had also been her mother's major source of comfort during the time she had been in San Francisco, which had won him considerable brownie points in Grace's eyes.

"Grace?"

Grace jolted from her reverie and found both Tom and her mother staring at her. "Moving in together," she repeated. "What does that mean? Getting a brand new house? What about me moving into the guest house? What happened to that?"

"No, I mean George moving in with _us_. You can still move into the guest house like we talked about and everything would stay the same, except George would be living in the main house with Tom and I."

"In your and dad's bedroom?"

"In _my_ bedroom," Kathleen softly corrected.

Grace felt a slicing sensation deep in her chest. A part of her wanted to slink to the floor and throw a tantrum, but the other part of her knew this had been a long time coming, maybe even since the moment she had walked in on her mom and George back in October.

"When?" Tom asked between licking his fingers of melted butter and crumbs.

"We don't really have a date yet," Kathleen replied, still looking worriedly at Grace. "We're still just talking."

Grace reached tentatively for a piece of the banana nut bread. She set it on a napkin and broke it apart with her fingers, then she lifted a small piece of to her lips, swirled it around her mouth, and swallowed. She waited, hoping her stomach wouldn't react violently, then she continued to eat tiny pieces just like the first one until the slice was gone.

"I like George," Tom said. He grabbed another three slices of banana nut bread.

"I guess you might as well do it all at once then, shouldn't you?" Grace finally spoke up. "Since I'm moving out to the guest house anyway, why not just have George move in at the same time?"

Kathleen's eyes ballooned with surprise. "Are you sure, Gracie?"

"Yeah. Why not? If it's going to happen, why not just get it over with?"

"Can I go now?" Tom asked, pointing to the next room.

Kathleen nodded. "Sure, Tom." She waited until her son had left and then she took his vacated seat. "Grace?"

"I'll be honest with you, Mom: I still think the way you moved on from Dad was too soon and for a long time I wanted to blame George for that, but I've been told numerous times from several sources how he was there for you when I wasn't. For that, I'm grateful. And if he really, _truly_ makes you happy…then I guess I can accept him into my life and into my home. Just promise me that you are sure about him this time, before you make any major commitments."

Kathleen reached across the table to cup Grace's hands. "Gracie," she said, her eyes watering, "you have no idea how much that means to me."

"I want you to be happy, Mom."

Kathleen kissed her daughter's hands. "I promise. And thank you. You – I'm so proud of you, honey. You've grown up so much."

Grace bowed her head. "I didn't have much of a choice. But you do and I just want you to make the right one. I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, sweetheart." Kathleen stood and cradled her daughter in a hug. "God couldn't have blessed me with a better daughter."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian was lying sprawled out on her bed wearing a blue camisole and a pair of pajama shorts. She had a pair of ear buds in her ears and a notebook chock full of notes. Her laptop was sitting on a small computer desk connected via a USB cord to her digital camera and the message on the screen read: _67% Uploaded_.

"Hello?"

The voice, accompanied with a persistent knock, prompted Adrian to pull the ear buds out of her ears and realize that there was someone at her door. She hit the pause button on her tape recorder and jogged over to the door. "Who's there?"

"Bristol."

"Bristol?" Adrian questioned.

"We're both in the Legal Reasoning, Research, and Writing class."

Adrian unlocked the door and opened it just enough to pull the sliding chain lock taut. She peered at the black haired girl and although she didn't recognize her, she did admit that she looked familiar so she finally unlatched the chain. "Okay," she agreed, "so what are you doing at my door?"

"I was wondering if I could get your notes from yesterday's class?"

"You weren't there?"

"I had a searing migraine," Bristol frowned. "I get them from time to time and of course one would hit on a day I have class. I feel terrible about it, too, because getting a spot in this program is hard enough and then here I am, missing a day within the first week-and-a-half."

"Well good news, you came to the right door," Adrian smiled. She walked over to her bed and picked up her recorder with the ear buds still dangling from it. "I record the classes and review them to supplement my notes. Do you have an e-mail? I can just send you a copy of the voice file and you can listen to the whole lecture, class comments and all."

"Oh, you are my saving grace!" Bristol dug into her pocket and then winced. "And can I trouble you for a pencil too? I was kind of expecting to take a stack of notes back to my dorm."

"Yeah, here." Adrian picked up her pencil and notepad, found a clean page, and handed them both to other girl. "Just write down your e-mail. I'll send it to you–" she looked at her laptop which now claimed to have seventy percent of her photos uploaded "–just as soon as that's done loading. Minus the time it takes me to upload the sound file from this," she said, waggling her voice recorder.

"I'm a night owl, so no pressure." Bristol scribbled down her e-mail address and handed the notebook and pencil back to the Latina.

"I'll try to get it to you before class today."

Bristol peered over at Adrian's laptop. "A lot of pictures I take it?"

Adrian laughed. "Yeah."

"First time in New York?"

"How'd you guess?" she laughed, rolling her eyes.

"I was the same way when I went on a Skills USA competition down in Las Vegas my sophomore year. I filled a brand new four gig SD card and actually had to buy a new one while I was down there because I couldn't bring myself to delete anything."

"Well they're more for my family and friends than for me."

"And where are they?"

"California. I'm from California, this little town no one's heard of called Valley Glen."

"Oh," Bristol nodded. "Clear across the country, cool."

"What about you?"

"Wasilla, Alaska."

"Which is exactly the opposite of sunny California, wow. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Bristol."

"Likewise." Bristol stood awkwardly in the middle of the dorm for a minute, then pointed to the door. "Well…thanks again," she said, motioning towards the tape recorder. "And if there's any way I can pay you back, _please_ let me know!"

Adrian moved behind Bristol to close the door, then spoke up suddenly: "Wait!"

"Yeah?"

"Did you say you've been here before?"

"No, but I may have alluded to it. And for the record, yes, I have. Why?"

"So you know your way around pretty well?"

Bristol nodded.

Adrian smiled sheepishly. "Do you think, after class or during one of the weekends, you might be able to show me around? I know I could find everything on my own if I have to, I've been doing a little exploring when I'm not studying or writing papers, but…I was kind of hoping to get some pictures of myself around the city – especially in front of some of the more famous monuments – and constantly stopping to ask strangers to take your picture isn't quite my idea of a good time."

"And they never know how to use your camera anyway."

"I know! And if they end up taking a picture that cuts your head off–"

"You feel too awkward to ask them to redo it."

"Yes!"

Bristol laughed. "Yeah, sure, I'd love to show you around. Just let me know when and I'll be ready."

"Great! I'll–" Adrian held up the notepad "–shoot you an e-mail."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Adrian bid the girl a goodbye and shut the door. She read the e-mail address and then tossed the notebook back onto her bed. "Really?" she glared at her laptop. "Only eighty-four percent? And how long was I busy talking to that girl?" She scowled at the screen. "I need to get you a tune-up."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Ben!"

"Ahhh!" Ben shot up in bed ramrod straight to find Alice and Henry on either side of him, both of whom dissolved into devilish fits of laughter. "What the hell!" he yelled, grabbing his pillow and swatting his two best friends off the bed with it. "What are you even doing here this early?"

"Early?" Henry baulked.

"It's after one."

"P.M."

"That was implied, Hank," Alice replied in monotone.

"After one?" Ben rolled over to look at his clock and sure enough it was nearly thirty past one. His jaw flopped open. "How could I have slept so long?" He suddenly jumped out of bed. "Oh god, Mercy!"

Alice grabbed Ben by the shoulder, halting his escape out the door. "Your dad's got her. She and Camille took her out today so that you could sleep in. But then around noon he called up Henry and I and said if you weren't up by one-thirty to wake you up by whatever means necessary."

Ben puckered his face. "And you couldn't even give me the extra four minutes until one-thirty?"

"We thought you'd slept long enough."

Ben grabbed his pillow and threw it at Henry who dodged just in time.

"You must be working yourself to the bone," Alice commented. "I don't think I've ever seen you sleep past eleven except that one time when we caught mono from Henry."

"Hey!" Henry glared, pointing his finger accusingly. "We don't know it was from me."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Alice and I were the ones who drank off your soda bottle."

"So you admit you could've given it to me."

"No, neither of us had any way of contracting it. It's not like we were kissing people back then."

"Neither was I!"

"No, but you did have that disgusting habit of touching your mouth to the drinking fountain heads that we didn't know about until after the fact," Alice pointed out.

Ben shuddered. "I don't know how you still kiss him."

"I don't think of that, that's how. And I've also warned him against giving me mono again under the threat of death."

Ben nodded. "That's fair."

"I think so."

"Can we get back to the point, please?" Henry spoke up. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right, never better."

Alice pressed the back of her hand to Ben's forehead. "He doesn't feel feverish."

"I'm just a little burnt out," Ben said, swiping her hand away. "This is my first day off since Sunday and I'm exhausted."

Alice and Henry exchanged amused expressions as though they were having some sort of telepathic conversation.

"What?" Ben demanded, hands on his hips.

"Nothing," Henry said dismissively. "Just woe the life of a single dad."

"Oh," Ben groaned. "Not this again. I'm not a single dad, I'll never be a single dad, so can we kindly move on now?"

"As you wish, Sleeping Beauty." Alice pulled open her friend's closet. "Hank!"

Henry moved to his girlfriend's side and rummaged through Ben's clothes before settling on a pair of jeans, a short sleeved moss green undershirt, and a beige over shirt with adjustable sleeves that were currently synched just above the elbow. He tossed them onto the comforter beside Ben. "Get dressed, we've got places to go."

"Where?"

"The circus."

"The circus?"

"Where else?" Henry grinned. "It'll be just like old times! Your dad even left us some spending cash."

Ben let out an indignant snort. "How nice of him."

"Get dressed Ben," Alice demanded. "We'll be waiting downstairs. If you're not down there in fifteen minutes, I'll break down the door."

Henry waited for Alice to walk out and then whispered, "She will, too." He made a slitting motion across his throat and then Alice's arm pushed back through the door, grabbing Henry's hand, and tugging him out.

Ben stared down at his clothes. "I'm too old for the circus."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"What do you keep checking your phone for?" Heather asked as she sat with Grace on the front steps of the school, eating their lunches.

"I was hoping to get an e-mail from Adrian. She promised to upload some pictures within the next few days when I talked to her on Sunday."

"How's she doing?"

"It sounds like she's having a lot of fun. She said they're getting two guest speakers this week, one on Thursday and one on Friday. One is some kind of major New York attorney and the other's a seasoned prosecutor. I guess the course is a lot more hands-on than she was anticipating, but that's a good thing."

"Sounds more interesting than our dumpy classes."

Grace yanked an apple juice box out of her lunch and jammed the straw into the silver hole. "I hear you."

"Is that what your med camp was like?"

"Fun?"

"Yeah." Heather pulled the top off an Oreo and poked at the cream with her finger.

"Yeah. I mean…putting aside the fact that if I hadn't gone I probably never would've run into _him_ again, yeah, it was fun."

"You heard from Jason?"

Grace swirled her juice box and listened to the contents slosh inside. "No. Which is probably a good thing considering."

"Do you ever feel like you're just in this state of perpetual limbo while everyone else is moving on with their lives? And all you can think about are those moments when you're royally fucked up; they just play over and over in your head like a scratched disc?"

"Preach, sister."

"I wish I knew how to deal."

"When you find out, let me know." The bell rang and Grace drank the rest of her juice until she was making an annoying slurping sound and then trashed the box on her way back to the summer classroom.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Somehow watching a creepy looking guy with a nose that looks like a tomato make balloon animals just isn't as amusing as it was when we were eleven," Ben said as they stood in a crowd watching a clown in a rainbow afro wig make a giraffe balloon animal for a little Filipina girl.

"Quit being a Debbie Downer," Henry said while reaching to grab a wad of blue cotton candy off of Alice's cotton candy wand.

"I wish Adrian were here."

"The show starts in less than ten minutes, I want to get good seats," Alice said, ignoring Ben's complaints.

"Why did my father take Mercy out today if he was just going to send us to the circus? This is something I should be taking her to see."

"Ben, you have the right to be a kid for a day. Suck it up and enjoy yourself, man!"

Ben sulked behind his friends as they walked hand-in-hand to the tent and located three seats in the second row of the audience. He watched Alice flag over a guy who was selling peanuts and glumly began to eat the package she bought for him as he waited for the show to start. Then he spied Henry sneakily texting on his phone. "How come_ he_ gets to text?"

Alice looked at Ben and then snatched up Henry's phone. "He's not, so now you have nothing to complain about." She pointed to the stage. "Look!"

Ben followed her finger and saw a couple of firebreathers putting on a scintillating act. Or it would've been scintillating, if he was surrounded by his girlfriend and daughter. "Woo. Hoo," he said sarcastically.

"Are we too late?"

All three heads whipped around. "You're just in time," Alice grinned.

"Dada!"

Ben hopped out of his seat and ran to Camille and his father before they could even reach him halfway. He scooped Mercy out of his father's hands and bounced her in his arms. "You set this up?"

"I do hope your attitude's going to improve for Mercy's sake," Leo said, holding up his cell phone. "Henry says you've been a frump all afternoon."

"Doesn't help when someone wakes you up out of a sound sleep," Ben glared. He kissed Mercy's head. "Where have she been all day? She has a bit of an…odor."

"We've been at the circus all morning. They had a kind of 'petting zoo' enclosure that we took her in. She _really_ liked the elephants," Camille explained.

Mercy suddenly waved her arms and made a grunting noise.

"What, exactly, did you do to her?" Ben asked as they walked back to their seats.

"I think she's trying to emulate the sound of an elephant. You should've seen the gut buster she let out after she saw one of the elephants spray another one with its trunk."

"You like elephants, huh?" Ben asked, bouncing the little girl on his knee.

Mercy pressed her arm to her face and waved it up and down, imitating an elephant's trunk. She made her grunting noise again and then her eyes caught sight of the firebreathers. She stopped her imitation and pointed.

"You like that too, baby girl?" Ben suddenly lifted her up high.

Mercy squealed and kicked her legs. When the firebreathers' streams of flames collided in the air create an X-shape she screamed in delight.

For the first time since he'd arrived at the circus, Ben started laughing.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Bristol angled Adrian's camera until the Latina appeared in a good place on the LCD screen, centered in front of the giant gold Prometheus statue located in Rockefeller Center. "A little more to the right!" she called over the sound of the rushing water and fountains behind Adrian.

Adrian complied and turned her back to the camera, raising her arm in an almost hail Hitler fashion, then she splayed her fingers and looked over her shoulder with a saucy look on her face. "How's that?"

"Perfect!" Bristol hollered back. She snapped the photo and then hurried over to Adrian and showed her the finished product on the LCD screen.

"Oh, that's exactly what I wanted," Adrian cackled. "I can't wait to send that one."

"Anywhere else you want to hit before we head back for the night?"

"I really want to see the Statue of Liberty, but I think it's a bit too late for that tonight."

"We could hit Staten Island this weekend. The ferry is free."

"It is?"

"Oh yeah. You don't get motion sickness though, do you?"

"My boyfriend might, but not me, no."

"The same boyfriend who faints at other people's pain?"

"Yep."

"He sounds like a character."

"He's a sweetheart."

"How'd you get together?"

Adrian winced a little. "Ehhh…that's a long story. Let's just say we met at a summer retreat."

Bristol nodded. "Been together long?"

"Kind of. It's complicated. We – we kind of danced around the bush before we officially got together." Adrian sighed. "The truth is, we did things a little backwards: we had a daughter before we started dating."

Bristol raised her eyebrows. "Oh. Well, congratulations. How old is she?"

"About fourteen months."

Bristol smiled. "My son'll be two in December."

"You're a teen mother too?"

"Yeah. Of all the other people in class I could've gotten notes from, I guess God wanted me to pick yours."

"Now you sound like my friend, Grace." Adrian raked her fingers through her hair. "So what about you and your son's father?"

Bristol looked away. "We were engaged, but we broke it off March of last year. The first time."

"The first time?"

"Yeah. We got back together, but it wasn't meant to be. We got into an argument the night before I was supposed to leave for this program and the next thing I knew he was walking out the door with our son. I knew it was over, for good this time, and we made it official for the second time on the fourteenth."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Sometimes, no matter how hard you might want them to, things just don't work out. And then sometimes things get ugly."

"You mean custody-wise?"

"Yeah. I eventually got full custody of my son, but it was still hard on all of us and our families. But, I wish you and your family all the best."

Adrian touched a chain around her neck. She traced it down to the collar of her shirt with her finger and then pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the warm metal key at the end of the chain against her skin.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

A ping sounded on Grace's computer and she immediately switched tabs to her e-mail account. Sure enough she had a brand new e-mail from Adrian which she eagerly clicked on.

_Dear Grace:_

_I meant to send you these this morning but I got an unexpected visitor. It actually turned out to be a good thing because the two of us did a mini tour of the city today and spent most of the afternoon in Rockefeller Center. She took some pictures which I hope will amuse you. I'm sorry this e-mail is so short, but I'm exhausted and my feet are killing me! I'll get in touch with you soon, Blondie._

_Love,_

_Adrian_

_P.S. Don't share the second photo with anyone. I mean it, Girlfriend!_

Grace eagerly downloaded the attachment and strummed her fingers impatiently until a file of photographs sprung up: the first was of Adrian purchasing a hot dog at a mobile hot dog truck and squeezing mustard all over it, the second involved Adrian shielding her face from the picture and large mustard splotches down the front of her shirt, the third was of Adrian wearing a partially zipped up green sweat jacket to hide the mustard stains as she ran down the stairs into subway, the fourth was of Adrian in a designer purse shop with her arms loaded down with a rainbow spectrum of handbags, the fifth was Bristol stopping to pet a bunch of dogs being walked by a professional dog walker, the sixth was Adrian and Bristol squeezing their faces into the same frame in an attempt to take a self photograph in front of a bakery window, the seventh was of Adrian posing as she held onto a landmark post for the John Finley Walk in Manhattan, the eighth was Adrian feeding some ducks, the ninth was Adrian in front of the Prometheus statue which was posed in such a way that it looked like Adrian was caressing Prometheus's six pack abs, and the final photo was a silhouette of Adrian leaning some kind of railing and staring out across the bay at the Statue of Liberty against the backdrop of the setting sun.

_Did you take the second to last one just to make Ben jealous? Haha, I love it! My favorite is the last one though. Are you planning to visit the Statue of Liberty too? I know you talked about that and visiting the Ellis Island Museum. They probably don't allow pictures inside. Take one outside for me and call or Skype me as soon as you get a chance. I miss you!_

_Love,_

_Grace_

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

The following morning Ricky stood in front of the bathroom mirror wearing nothing but a bath towel wrapped around his lower body as he brushed his teeth. His cell phone sat to the right of the sink below his tooth brush holder. He finished, rinsed, and tore off a piece of floss which he had just begun to pull down between his back right molars when his phone began to ring. He looked down at the caller I.D. and quickly yanked the floss out of his mouth, spat a bit of blood into the sink, and answered his cell. "Hello?"

"Is Richard Underwood available?"

"This is he."

"This is the Valley Glen free clinic calling about your test results."

"_Yes?"_ he answered anxiously.

"We apologize that they've taken so long, we've been unusually busy over the last week."

"That's fine," Ricky said dismissively. "What did the tests say?"

"Your tests all came back negative except for one."

"Chlamydia."

"Yes."

Ricky pulled himself and stared at his reflection in the mirror. "Now what?"

"We'll need to see you as soon as possible."


	17. Guess Who's Coming To Dinner

**A/N: **This chapter took a while to get up because I kept having to put it on hold due to finals prep. (I still have three finals left: one online due tomorrow and two in-class due Monday.) But just FYI, this chapter is rated R to be on the safe side because of adult themes.

_**Turning Tables**_

**Guess Who's Coming To Dinner**

"I would've just taken the azythromycin if I were you, it was only one dose and all you would've had to do was abstain from sex for seven days, but since you're not having sex right now anyway…"

"Taking the easy way out has consistently gotten me in trouble in the past, so excuse me for being overly cautious now," Ricky retorted. "Besides, the doxycycline is less expensive."

"Yeah, because it's a week long, two-dose-a-day pain in the ass."

"There was also a study done a few years ago that said the doxycycline is slightly more effective."

"_Eight_ years ago," Ashley corrected. "And it was only by one percent."

"You sound like my mother," Ricky glared. "Stop trying to make me second guess myself. I only have two days of treatment left anyway, it's no use arguing about now."

Ashley swirled a straw around in her cup of iced tea. "What about the possible infertility side effects? How do you know if it's impacted you or not?"

"I don't. They don't have a test for Chlamydia induced infertility and it's not like I want to go out right now and start experimenting." Ricky laughed bitterly. "It's kind of funny if you think about it: I never wanted kids before Adrian was pregnant. Maybe I still don't, but now even if I did, I might not be able to have them because I wanted a quick blow from someone I didn't even like."

"On the bright side: at least Chlamydia is treatable in the sense that once you finish your antibiotics, it won't stay in your body and reoccur and leave this storm cloud looming over your future relationships."

"At least," he sighed.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I hope everyone was able to complete their reading over the weekend, and for those who have, you'll be pleased to know that you have a pop quiz, starting _now_." The professor picked up a Cookie Monster shaped cookie jar on his desk and plucked the top off. He reached inside, swirled his hand around, and pulled it back out with a handful of folded slips of paper. He used his free hand to unfold one. "Ms. Lee," he announced.

Adrian felt all the eyes in the class turn on her. Luckily, being dubbed the High School Slut of Valley Glen and getting pregnant on top of it had prepared her for the moment, so she plastered on her most award winning smile and sat up a little straighter in her chair.

The professor strolled up the aisle and stopped at Adrian's chair. He gave her a once over and then his hand swooped out and snatched up the purse that was seated by her feet. "I've just seized your purse. What are you going to do about it?"

Adrian offered her hand. "Calmly demand you give it back. Immediately."

"Why? I'm an officer of the law. Who are _you_ to question my authority?"

"Have I committed a crime?"

"How is that relevant?"

Adrian rose from her seat, matching her professor's height in her two inch faux snakeskin Kristine Peep pumps. "Please describe for me your reasonable suspicion of the crime I've committed that allows you the legal seizure of my purse as per Terry versus Ohio." She laid her hand on the strap of her purse. "Or return my property."

The professor was silent for a full minute, then a grin seared onto his lips and he dropped the strap of Adrian's purse so that it landed in her palm. "A. Well done, Ms. Lee."

Adrian slipped back into her seat and proudly crossed one leg over the other as her professor began to unfold another name from the cookie jar. She looked over at Bristol who gave her a wink and Adrian gave a subtle flip of her hand as if she aced pop oral law quizzes on a daily basis.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I don't know what I did," Ben said. "Last I knew we were on good terms and now she won't return my calls."

"Maybe she's busy. She does have a boyfriend, a sick grandmother, and a worn out mom," Bunny replied. "And no job, unlike _you_." She pointed to the clock and snapped her fingers. "Break's over!"

Ben rolled his eyes. "Gotta go, Henry. I'll talk to you later." He turned his phone off and dragged himself off the chair to find Bunny still filling the doorway. "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough to know you shouldn't be worrying about Amy Juergens."

"She's my friend. Don't you worry about your friends?"

"Not on company time I don't." Bunny pointed down the hallway. "A new customer just walked in, by the way."

Ben dropped his phone into his pocket and scooted by Bunny. Bunny's words seemed a little callous to him, although Henry and Alice had made basically the same point: that maybe he was making too much of her having not returned his calls or texts. It wasn't like she was his girlfriend anymore, but still, it seemed wrong for her to be so distant from him just out of the blue and he couldn't help thinking there was more to it than that.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian zipped up her binder, tossed her purse onto her shoulder, and made her way down the aisle toward the door.

"Adrian."

The Latina halted beside her professor's desk and turned curiously. "Yes?"

"I was really impressed with your work today."

Adrian bit the insides of her cheeks in an attempt to hide how much she wanted to gloat. "Thank you."

"I give that same pop quiz every session and you'd be surprised how many students, even if they have completed the reading, don't ace the quiz."

She raised her eyebrows. "What did I do that was so extraordinary?"

"You put on a show. Many people are put off when I take something of theirs, but you played the game; that's what I wanted to see. Lawyers and DA's do this every day of every single case: they put on a show. They have to. They also have to be able to think on their feet and, most importantly, _know what they're talking about_."

"Even if they're spinning lies?"

"_Especially_ if their spinning lies. Tell me, what are the most convincing lies?"

Adrian cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips. After a moment she responded, "The ones based in truth."

"Exactly. Fiction is richest when it has a thread of truth."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky swung the front door open expecting to find the electrician that his mother had been waiting on. His brow furrowed when, instead, he found: "Grace?"

The blonde smiled shyly. "Sorry to show up unannounced, but I was wondering if we could…talk?"

Ricky stepped aside and motioned his arm. "The house is kind of messy right now, we were having electrical problems over the weekend: we lost power in half the house and there's extension cords all over where we've had to temporarily plug some things into other sockets, the fridge being the worst." He directed her into the family room. "I'd rather talk in my room, but since the doorbell's out, I can't hear the electrician knock down there–"

"This is fine," Grace interrupted. "Is anyone else home?"

"Just my mom, but she just went out back to water. Ashley had been here, but George picked her up about twenty minutes ago."

"Yeah," Grace nodded. "Heather said George was giving her and Ashley a ride to the movies after class. She asked me if I wanted to come but – I wasn't up for it."

Ricky took in Grace's anxious expression and flushed face. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coke?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

Ricky rubbed his fingers along the fabric on the arm of the couch. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked tentatively.

Grace rotated her head around as far as she could, as if she didn't believe that it was really just the two of them in the house. "Will Margaret be in soon?"

"It usually takes her about forty-five minutes to an hour to finish the whole garden."

"Oh."

"Would you rather talk in my room?"

Grace stared at her hands in her lap. "I don't want you to miss the electrician."

Ricky held up his finger. "Hold on, I'll be right back."

Grace watched as her friend got up and disappeared from the living room. She picked at the handle of her purse in her lap until Ricky returned, this time with Margaret. "Hi, Mrs. Shakur."

"Grace," Margaret nodded. "It's good to see you."

"You too."

Margaret exchanged quick glances with Ricky. "Ricky asked me if I wouldn't mind putting my watering on hold so he could talk with you about something."

Grace opened her mouth and closed it again like a goldfish. She finally nodded. "Only if it's not an inconvenience."

"Absolutely not. Just let me know when you're done."

"Thanks," Grace murmured. She waved her hand towards the older woman as Ricky led her towards the door of his basement bedroom. She slipped inside and breathed a small sigh of relief when she heard the door shut behind her and quickly descended the stairs. She looked around the room once, decided against the bed, and instead seated herself on the propped up futon.

Ricky hurried down a moment later and crawled onto his bed. "So what's going on?" he asked.

Grace swallowed the thick saliva clogging her throat and stared at her fingernails. There were still tiny flecks of purple of yellow from when Heather had painted her nails last month. "I wanted to ask you something really personal. Is that okay?"

The brunette hesitated. "I guess so. We're good enough friends for that," he said finally.

"It's about – it's – wh-what B-Bob did to you."

Ricky flinched. The sexual abuse. Suddenly Grace's discomfort made much more sense. His first instinct was to tell her that she should be talking to a professional about this, like Dr. Fields. At least, he assumed whatever questions she had probably stemmed from her own assault. But on the other hand, he knew how difficult it had been to talk to Dr. Fields himself at first, even when the sessions had been court mandated. He finally managed to six words out of the back of his throat: "What do you want to know?"

Grace covered her face with her hands. She sat like that for a few minutes. When she eventually removed her hands she didn't look at him but still managed to ask, "Did you _feel_ anything?"

"Feel anything?"

"Yes."

"I don't –" Ricky grit his teeth. He suddenly thought he knew what she was getting at and it made the bile in his stomach spit and sizzle. "_Pain._ Anger. Hatred. Both for him and myself. And anyone else who didn't give a damn." He knew his voice had rapidly turned defensive, but he couldn't seem to control it.

"I don't mean all of that. I _know_ all of that. I mean –"

"I know what you mean!" Ricky snapped. He felt his neck growing hot and he quickly looked away from Grace. "I know what you mean," he repeated, this time trying to reign in his emotions.

"So you – you did?" she exhaled.

"It's not what you think, Grace. A bodily reaction isn't the same one that happens in your head. Or your heart. Don't confuse the two." He suddenly looked up again. "You said you went to a support group. Didn't anyone tell you that there?"

"I never talked about _that_ there. It was too – too…"

"Shameful."

"Yes."

"So why are you talking to me about it now?" Ricky noted her wince. "I mean," he corrected, "I'd think it'd be easier to talk to a woman."

"You'd think," Grace agreed. "But I guess I – I admire you."

The drummer gawked. "Why?"

"Because you've come so far. Not that there weren't women in group who had as well, like Vera, but they're not here. You are. A phone call can only help so much, Ricky, and I promise you, there've been many. But you're my friend; you knew me before this happened. And you also have experience with – with abuse."

"Something that you should know is that you'll never be the person you were before it happened."

"I never had any illusions that I would be."

"Good." Ricky grabbed his pillow from the head of his bed and pressed it to his chest; a nervous habit that he usually reserved for sessions with Dr. Fields. "So why now?" he asked. "Why ask me about this now?"

Grace broke eye contact again. "DA Enriquez came to see me on Friday."

"To talk about the trial?"

"Yeah."

"I thought it wasn't until January?"

"It's not, but he says he's got all these specialists he wants me to start talking to beginning next month. Prep, he says, for the witness stand. It's the last thing I want to do. I've barely spoken the details to anyone except my group and not even they know _everything_."

"Like the orgasm?"

Grace shut her eyes. "Can you not use that word?"

"It makes it sound like something it's not, doesn't it? Believe me, I know, Grace. But it's not something _you_ did. There was nothing pleasurable about what Grant did to you. But – but look!" Ricky suddenly got off his bed and grabbed Grace by the wrist.

The blonde instinctively tore her arm away and stared at him at a loss for whatever point he was trying to make.

"Look at your wrist."

Grace lifted her arm and cautiously inspected her wrist: it was faintly red-and-white striped like a candy cane from where Ricky's fingers had gripped the flesh.

"I did that. You didn't choose to have your skin turn color, your body reacted to _my_ actions. It's like bleeding: if I cut you, you can't choose whether or not to bleed. The same is true with sex. If there's a high enough intensity of stimuli – long enough, fast enough – your body will react without consent. Some abusers use it as a form of psychological manipulation to make their victims think they wanted the abuse. That's a goddamn lie!"

"When it happened he said…"

"_I knew you loved me. I was right, you were just holding back your feelings."_ _Grant cupped the curve of Grace's cheek in his hand and suckled her lower lip before enveloping her mouth in a sweaty kiss._

Ricky sat down beside her. He debated whether or not to touch her hand or shoulder or to just leave her alone entirely. "He's just like Bob: he's so worthless that he wanted people – you – to need him, but you didn't, so he took out his frustration on your body. He can't have your mind though. Don't let him get your mind."

"I think he already has. I have nightmares. Sometimes after I came home I would crawl into my mom's bed when I woke up from them. She never asked why; I never said. But I knew that couldn't last. Sometimes I'd go sleep in the top bunk bed in the guest house, other times I'd just go to sleep in the Lazy Boy because my room is too uncomfortable, the couch is where I woke up to the sound of him at the door, and when I walk outside alone I feel like someone's watching me."

"You haven't told your mom any of this?"

"No. I don't want to put anymore stress on her."

"So you put it all on yourself?"

"Don't chastise me for that, Ricky. It's hypocritical."

Ricky conceded her point. He'd been a hypocrite plenty of times in his past and he had no doubt he was destined to do so again in the future.

"You're the only one I've told about this," she confided. "I don't know if I should tell anyone else. I don't want them – him – to be able to use it against me in court."

Ricky wanted to tell her they couldn't, but he knew that a skeevy defense lawyer could spin it their way. "I won't tell anyone," he promised. "But you should already know that. Grant, however…"

"I know. And I'm already in a bad light because I ran away. Imagine what a jury might do with this information. It might even strengthen his claim in their eyes."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Say goodnight to _Mamá_," Ben said. He picked up Mercy's chubby hand and guided it in a wave at the webcam that was clipped to the top of his laptop. On the main screen he was watching Adrian's face; she was emphatically waving back.

"_¡Mamá! ¡Mamá!" _the little girl shrieked. She kept lunging forward in Ben's arms attempting to grab the screen.

Ben kissed Mercy's head at the same time his girlfriend blew a kiss from the screen. "Time for bed," he said.

Mercy frantically shook her head. _"¡No! ¡Mamá!"_

"It's almost time for _Mamá's _bedtime too," Adrian replied. "Goodnight, _Preciosista_. I'll see you tomorrow!"

Ben trudged out of his room with Mercy, who began to throw a fit as soon as he was on the other side of the doorframe. "If you keep this up," he warned, "we won't be able to say goodnight to _Mamá _anymore."

Mercy chose to wail and jerk in her father's arms, screaming for her mother and violently rocking back and forth in her crib after Ben had set her down.

Ben stood torn between staying to comfort his little girl and or returning to Adrian. It was already past 8:00 P.M., which meant it was past 11:00 P.M. for Adrian. She had school and he had work in the morning, so he couldn't coddle his daughter all night long.

"Ben?"

Ben looked over his shoulder where Camille was hovering in the doorway of the nursery. "Hey," he said. "I didn't realize you were here."

"You dad invited me over for dinner, but he got caught up in traffic." Camille looked over at the screaming toddler. "I suspect Adrian's waiting on you?"

Ben bowed his head. "I should've never let her stay up late to say goodnight to Adrian over the weekend. Adrian said it wasn't a good idea, but I'm an idiot." He grunted in pure frustration. "I pandered to her Friday, Saturday, _and_ Sunday. But tonight I'm beat and –"

"Go. Go say goodnight to Adrian," Camille insisted with a wave of her arm. "I'll take care of Mercy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said, scooping Mercy from her crib, "we'll be just fine."

Ben lingered a while until Camille scolded him to go again, so he did. As he neared his room he heard Mercy's cries subsiding and he couldn't tell if it was the distance or if it was Camille.

"You got her down tonight?" Adrian asked in surprise.

"Not exactly, but she's being taken care of." Ben dropped into his computer chair again and smiled at the image of his girlfriend. "You look gorgeous."

"Liar," Adrian laughed. The image on the screen suddenly jiggled, jarred, and settled again with a new background that included pillows and bed sheets. Adrian appeared to sprawl out, though only her upper body could be seen in the frame of the screen. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and she wore a sky blue spaghetti strap night shirt.

"I'd pull that right over your head if I could," he said, touching the lens of the camera.

"I bet you would." Adrian smirked. She tugged at the edge of her shirt, teasing her boyfriend by pulling it up just enough to reveal her bare belly and the tiniest glimpse of the edge of her lace white bra.

"Strip tease?"

"Not tonight, Benny."

"Oh, come on! I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"Tempting, but no. I'm exhausted and I have to get up early to meet Bristol at the library for some research on an essay due Friday."

Ben reclined in his seat. "Only two more weeks left."

"And then I'll be with my two favorite people," Adrian grinned.

"I miss you."

"I miss you too."

Ben leaned forward. "Have you given anymore thought to my proposal?"

Adrian shook her head. "Not tonight, Ben." She leaned forward and the screen rapidly filled with a close up of her lips. The speakers echoed a kissing noise and then the webcam link disconnected.

Ben groaned and shut his laptop. Every time he asked her about their living arrangements, she'd change the subject. He was losing hope she'd have an answer for him before she returned from New York. He pushed off his chair and flopped down onto his mattress. It felt cold without Adrian. He groaned and flipped off the light, vowing to deal with it all tomorrow.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian was lying awake in the dark. The smell of cooking oil was heavy in the air from the homemade fry bread she'd made for dinner. She _was_ exhausted and she _did_ have a paper due Friday that was she set to work on early in the morning, but she couldn't manage to get her mind quiet down enough to rest. Frustrated, she rolled over and opened her laptop again. Instead of turning her webcam back on, she brought up her web browser and found Craigslist. Eventually, she found herself looking for jobs in the local Valley Glen area, the same thing she'd been doing for the last week, but the pickings were nil and as she scrolled, she realized the only new entries were for a construction worker and a part time veterinarian.


	18. Another Supposal

**A/N: **I meant to update around Christmas, but I was having some writer's block for a few scenes in this chapter. I think I finally got them to a point that I like though and I'll see what I can do about getting a second chapter up today or tomorrow, hopefully.

_**Turning Tables**_

**Another Supposal**

"I think I may have found something."

"You mean a job?" Bristol asked.

Adrian nodded eagerly. "It appeared on Craigslist last night. I called first thing this morning. Well, not first thing – time difference – but I set up an interview for next week after I'm back."

Bristol whistled in approval. "Look at you, all ready to move onto the next chapter of your life!"

"Nothing's set in stone," the Latina shot back. "It's just an interview and in terrible food service no less. Who knows if they'll take me."

"If anything, you're over qualified. Just look at how you've outshined everyone in this program."

"I have not."

"Yes," Bristol insisted. "You have! The organization you got your summer scholarship from must be thrilled with having put their money on you." She balled up her Subway wrapper and tossed it into an outdoor trash bin as they traipsed down the sidewalk. "Have you told Ben yet?"

"No. And I'm not going to, not until I see how the interview goes. He's been begging me to tell him yes for weeks and I just don't want him to get his hopes up if we can't afford this."

"Smart move. Plus, imagine his face when you tell him you are employed."

"_If_ that happens."

"You're such a pessimist."

"Funny, he was telling me that just a couple weeks ago too."

"I guess it's a consensus then, hm?"

Adrian rolled her eyes. "I'm just tired of false hope."

"Hope is hope. Just because things don't work out the way you wanted doesn't mean it was false."

"We'll have to agree to disagree."

Bristol nudged Adrian's arm playfully. "Hurry up, we've only got three-and-a-half days left and we still haven't taken a bite out of the Big Apple!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky was seated on the paper covered bed in his doctor's office. Since the cat was out of the bag about his parents knowing of his Chlamydia, he'd agreed to see his regular doctor for a checkup to make sure the doxycycline had done its job. He'd also undergone the nuisance of a full wellness checkup and was now awaiting his bill of health.

There were two quick, successive knocks. "Mr. Underwood?" Dr. Werthers asked, stepping inside.

Ricky bounced up, nearly slipping off the step as he pushed off the bed. He recovered quickly by grabbing a wad of the sanitary paper and ripping it nearly in half. He felt his skin grow hot around his face. "Yes?" he asked nervously, even though he wasn't stuttering.

"Your Chlamydia tests have come back clean. Congratulations, your STI is completely out of your system."

Ricky felt the pressure in his chest dissipate like air from a popped balloon. "Thank you!"

"That's a close call you, young man. You're lucky it wasn't anything more serious."

"I know! Trust me, that was a huge wakeup call. I'm going to be much more careful from now on."

"It's always a good precaution to get checked before you take on a new partner."

Ricky groaned inwardly. "I will."

Thankfully that seemed to pacify the doctor, so he moved onto the teenager's general health: "And everything else looks pretty decent. You're in great shape for someone your age. Are you an athlete?"

"I hit the batting cages in my spare time, but I'm not on any teams."

Dr. Werthers nodded. "Good, keep that up and remember to schedule regular appointments. You were long overdue."

"I will," Ricky smiled. "Anything else?"

"Nope. Just follow the desk around to the door and you can make your payment on your way out."

"Thank you." Ricky flew out the door as quickly as he could, zipping up his jacket at he went. The relief was immense; one thing less to worry about.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Ashley!" Ben greeted cheerfully. "Is Amy home?"

Ashley returned a stoic glare from the doorframe. "Nope."

"Do you know _where_ she is?"

"Buying drugs?"

"It's a serious question," Ben glared. He adjusted his daughter on his hip.

"And that's a serious answer," Ashley retorted. "I have no idea where my sister is. She's been taking off a half hour after our mother leaves for work and slinking back in an hour or two before she gets home. She doesn't offer; I don't ask."

"You're such a caring sister," Ben said, rolling his eyes. "Can you at least tell her I stopped by?"

"After that searing jab?"

"Ashley," Ben intoned.

"Fine," she shrugged. "Not that it'll make a difference."

"What?"

"I said, 'Not that it'll –'"

"I heard you," but cut in. "But why? Is she mad at me? What did I do?"

"How should I know? Amy's Amy. She been in her own little world for the last couple weeks, even more so than usual. I have no idea. Maybe there's trouble in Fairytale Land?"

"You mean with Jimmy?"

Again, Ashley shrugged. "I don't know, you'd have to ask her."

"Which I can't do when she won't return my calls and she's not at home when I drop by."

"Not my problem." Ashley started to shut the door and then stopped an inch before it was closed. "Good luck."

It was hard to tell when Ashley was being serious because everything seemed to come out in the same monotonous voice, but Ben felt he could reasonably assume from her body language that the comment had been sincere. "Thanks," he said as the door shut. He turned and headed back to his car as Mercy tugged ruthlessly on his earlobe.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"It seems like everyone comes to see you, don't they?" Grace's gray orbs tap danced around the room. She eventually opted to take a seat on the red sofa near the door.

"I have a long list of credentials," Dr. Fields replied in rebuttal. "Would you feel more comfortable if you were to take a look at them?"

Grace shook her head. "No. Mr. Enriquez says you've been working with the DA's office for a long time. Plus, Ricky and Adrian have nothing but good things to say about you."

"That's good to hear."

Grace pressed her lips together until the line separating them seemed to disappear. She looked down at her lap, toyed with her purse strap, and rubbed her fingernails with the pad of her thumb in the hopes of passing the time.

"What's on your mind, Grace?"

"That I don't want to be here."

"That's a natural reaction from many of my new patients." His face twisted up in amusement. "Plenty of my old patients too."

Grace resisted the urge to crack a smile at the joke. She suspected Ricky was included in the second group.

"What else?" he urged, trying to push the session back on track.

"The trial."

"What about the trial?"

"Everything: who will be there, what they'll think of me, the things I'll have to say on the stand…_him_."

"Grant?"

"Yes. Who else?"

"Why don't you tell me about Grant?"

"He raped me," she said bluntly.

"I know," Dr. Fields nodded. "How did you first meet Grant?"

Grace shook her head without looking at the doctor. Her blonde hair fell into her face, shrouding her features like a furry blonde bag. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Why not?"

"Because it reminds me of what a fraud he was; how he tricked me into thinking he was a good person!"

"Can you talk to me about what happened that night, Grace?"

Grace felt her eyes bubble up, leaving hot streams down her cheeks.

"_I love you, Grace. I love you so – ugh…s-so mu – ch." _

_Grace's body had long since ceased to struggle. The experience felt out of body for a while, as though she was watching a life sized doll being maneuvered and posed. Blanking out her mind allowed for survival._

"_I want…mmm…to know that you love me a – as much as I love you."_

Grace covered her ears, trying to block out the sound of his voice in her head. "No! Stop! Stop talking about him! I don't want to see it all over again!"

"Take a deep breath, Grace. Breathe. There, good. We don't have to talk about Grant if it's too uncomfortable."

Grace rocked back and forth on the couch until the sound in her head melted away. When she finally opened her eyes she found Dr. Fields watching her. "I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I can't do this. I can stand up in a school hallway and tell everyone that he did this, but when you start asking me to talk about the details it's like I'm right back there speared under his body again."

"That's not an unusual response."

"How am I going to get through the trial if I can't even talk about this?" she sniffed.

"We take it one day at a time. That's why I'm here, to help you through this. Are you willing to work with me?"

"What does that mean? What am I required to do?"

"Your best. _Try_ your best."

"And if I fail?"

"Then we go back to your last success and we start fresh from there."

"I don't have any successes."

"You don't?" Dr. Fields asked rhetorically. "Telling your mother, that wasn't a success? Turning Grant in, not a success? Standing up in your school hallway to tell the truth: not successful?"

Grace rubbed her stomach. "I guess it's start."

"It's more than a start, Grace. Roughly fifty-four percent of rapes are never even reported."

"I – I didn't know that."

"And did you know that two-thirds of rapes are committed by someone the victim knows?"

"I heard that in group," she nodded. "I didn't know that before. I didn't know a lot of things before." Grace fingered the short curls around her shoulder.

"There are a lot of myths about rape," Dr. Fields agreed. "And the reality is that the attacks we typically think of are often the minority scenarios."

"And it just perpetuates the cycle of ignorance."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Thanks for showing up," Heather said while chucking her backpack into the backseat of Ricky's car. She got into the passenger seat and the door thudded behind her.

"Don't slam my doors."

"Don't pick me up late."

"I didn't mean to pick you up late," Ricky replied. "I didn't even get in to see my doctor on time, they were running a half hour behind schedule."

Heather rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. I'll buy that." She strummed her fingers on the armrest of the passenger door. "Are we going to go or what?"

"Seatbelt."

Heather grunted and jerked the seatbelt into its clip. "Happy?"

"_Ecstatic." _Silence elapsed as they pulled out of the high school parking lot and rumbled down the street in the direction of the Shakur residence. "Do you want to go school shopping this weekend?" Ricky finally asked, his voice cracking the silence like a crinkling potato chip bag.

"School shopping?"

"Yeah, new clothes, school supplies, whatever."

"I haven't been school shopping since I was in elementary school," Heather said, the edge in her voice dulled. "My grandmother used to take me every year."

Ricky gave the ginger a side eyed glance. "The first time I went new school shopping it was for fifth grade," he said quietly. "I didn't even know that's what other kids did until Margaret and Shakur took me."

Heather swiveled her head between Ricky and the passenger window. She sighed. "I guess you win in the life fail department."

"I'm not trying to 'win' anything." Ricky suddenly pulled off onto the side of the road and turned the car off.

Heather gave him an incredulous look. "What the hell?"

Ricky lifted his hands. "What is this?" he asked. "What are we doing and why are we so pissed at each other?" He pointed his finger at her. "And don't tell me it's because I threw out your beer and you bit the hell out of me. If I was still mad about that, I never would've been okay with you moving in."

"You tell me," Heather shrugged. "Because I thought we were cool and then suddenly you're bitching at me because I like to eat in my room."

"Eating in your room is not the same as leaving your nasty dishes in your room!"

"I was going to take them out eventually! You didn't have to clean up after me."

"That's not how my house works!"

"_Your_ house," Heather snarled. "That's the problem: I had my house and you had your house with Margaret and Shakur. The three of you even had your own bathrooms for crying out loud! And then you come around busting my ovaries so that I have to move in with you."

"I was trying to help!"

"_I know!"_ Heather slammed her fist against the armrest. "And there's always a cost for accepting help, isn't there? It means you've got to admit how weak and helpless you are in the first place and then subject yourself to someone else's authority. I tried that once, back when I told my parents I was pregnant, and look how well _that_ turned. I swore I'd never do that again. And now I am and I'm still getting shit because my way isn't your way."

"I – I know how you feel," he said after a while.

"You do?" Heather asked skeptically.

"It wasn't easy when I moved in with them either."

Heather snorted. "I should've known you'd make this about you again."

Ricky gaped. He hadn't thought that trying to make a connection with her could be contrasted as making the situation about himself. Or that he'd already done that twice in the space of the short car ride since leaving the high school. He was at a loss for words. Ashley's words whispered again in his head.

"_You really haven't had siblings in a while, have you?"_

He tried to remember what it was like living with foster siblings. Was it anything like now, with Heather? Ricky rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd never been friends with his foster siblings before, not _before_ they'd been his foster siblings. He'd assumed their friendship was going to make the transition of living together easier, not harder.

"Can we just go ho – back to the Shakurs' now?" Heather asked. She was back to staring out the passenger window again.

Ricky numbly inserted the key into the ignition and started the engine again.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Mr. Juergens?" Ben asked Thursday morning. He crept out from behind the butcher counter. "I thought I heard your voice, what are you doing here?"

"Waiting on your dad, he didn't mention it?"

"Mention what?"

George waved his hand dismissively. "Just a little promotional sale I'm doing down at the furniture store. He's supplying me with some food this afternoon. Promoting each other's businesses, you know? Win-win.

Ben shook his head. "Uh, no, he didn't say anything." He scuffed the heels of his shoes. "But while you're here, do you mind if I ask: how's Amy?"

George's forehead crinkled. "Fine, why? Did she say something?"

Ben shook his head. "No, I just haven't been able to get a hold of her. I keep trying, but…I don't know. I just thought she might have said something."

"I haven't seen her much," George admitted. "We – well, it's no secret that we don't get along as well as I'd like."

Ben nodded, recalling when Amy had expressed her disappointment of possibly spending the summer in Valley Glen with George, instead of another summer in Palm Springs. He was sure she'd specifically mentioned phone fights over custody between her parents. Although, after everything that had happened with Grace, that had fallen to the back burner. For reasons unbeknownst to Ben, so had Anne's tentative plans to spend another summer in Palm Springs. He couldn't be certain, but if he'd had to guess, he would've figured it had something to do with money. Or rather, the lack thereof.

"They're coming over this weekend," George continued. "I'll see what's up. Or try to."

"George, you're already here!" Leo's voice boomed in time with the bell above the door.

"I'm early," George said. "A first." He chuckled. "It was good seeing you, Ben. Thanks."

Ben nodded and smiled as his father shot him a questioning look. "Good luck with your sale, Mr. Juergens." He slipped back behind the counter again as Bunny emerged, announcing that the catering truck was full. He suddenly wondered if Amy's distance had anything to do with not going to Palm Springs, though he couldn't figure out why that would have any bearing on their friendship.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

A stack of essays hit the professor's desk with a paper hiss. He strode around to the front and leaned his weight against the edge of the wood, tapping his lip with the eraser of his pencil. "If I know students – and, formerly being one myself, I do – I know that each and every one of you crammed every waking minute in the six hours before class to finish your opening argument essays." A sinister grin tickled at the corners of his lips. "I'd like to thank you for that. And now it's time to present your arguments…for the _opposing_ side." He looped around to his laptop and plugged in a flash drive. A few clicks later he pulled down the overhead screen and the image of a man was projected onto the white background.

The man's face had two black eyes. One was swollen shut and looked like a ripe plum protruding from the socket, the other the open, the eyeball itself bloodshot, giving the appearance as though the iris was floating in a wash of concentrated red food dye, and the skin around the eye looked like raw muscle as though it were part of an illustration in a med student's textbook. His nose was three times the size of an average nose and had a Frankenstein-like gnash streaked across it and his cheeks were puffy and speckled with cuts the size and color of raspberries.

"Jury," the professor said, addressing the class, "this is the face of your _victim_. Ms. Lee, you were given this photo and, knowing nothing else about him besides what you could see in this photograph, assigned to write an opening argument for this man's defense. Now, you'll stand before your peers and tell us why he's _not _innocent." He walked around the edge of his desk and sat down in his chair. He produced a mock gavel from his briefcase and smacked it on the table. "Let class commence!"

Adrian crushed her palms against the edge of her desk to brace herself as she pushed out of her seat. Her heart had sped up, beating three miles a minute. She tried to walk down to the front of the room as slowly as possible while her mind wrapped around everything she'd written into her essay and then turn it around to come up with a way to criminalize the man she'd come to think of as a victim. The most difficult part was the picture looming on the overhead projector screen: the man's injuries were ghastly and therefore, the sympathy lay with the rest of the class. Adrian reached the front of the room and sucked in until her lungs had expanded so much that they felt like they might pop in her chest. She tried to clear her mind as the stream of hot air careened back out her glossy lips.

"I'm sure you must be looking at this man and thinking: 'How can any human being deserve this kind of treatment?'" Adrian clasped her hands behind her back and paced back and forth across the head of the classroom. She stopped on her third round, dead center in front of her professor's desk. She glanced at him, then moved forward towards her classmates. "But what you should really be asking yourselves is, 'What did _his victims_ do to deserve this kind of treatment?' Do me a favor and take a good long look at the man before you – at each and every nail gouge and bruise wrought by a pair of knuckles – and then ask yourselves: wouldn't you do the same if it meant finally freeing yourselves from a man who had forced himself into your bed, into your _body_, every day for _years_? Let's call him what he is: a sexual predator."

Her voice began to pick up speed. "_Rapists _like him are the reason I'm standing before you today. It's time we stand up for the minorities who are singled out in the workplace as easy targets for sexual manipulation; it's time we stand up for the wives battered by their 'husbands'; it's time we stand up for the children who are afraid to tell their teachers what their 'fathers' do to them every night; it's time we stand up for the women who are left to carry their rapist's children; and most importantly, it's time we stand up for all the victims who can't and never will. This man is not your victim, this man is the epitome of what you, as a jury, must stand against! There is no true justice that can make up for his crimes, but at the very least, finding him guilty is what you_ owe_ to his victims."

Adrian swept her eyes across each face in the room, then she turned to do the same to her professor. She considered saying 'thank you' or 'that's all,' but ultimately decided against it, believing that her last words carried the most weight. Instead, she dropped her arms to her sides to show that she had nothing else to say and silently returned to her seat. She discreetly touched her pulse, under the guise of pushing a strand of hair behind her shoulder, and noted that it felt like she'd just outrun a bomb. She wanted nothing more to get up and walk off her anxiety; not from the bombshell assignment, but from the passion that throbbed inside her soul every time she thought about the horrors Ricky and Grace had endured and how much she wanted to put an end to the Bob Underwoods and Grant Volbergs of the world.


	19. Deeper And Keeper

**A/N: **Sorry, I truly did mean to get this up last night, but yesterday was my dad's one year clean and I was out later than I expected, so I was completely exhausted when I finally got home. On the bright side, this chapter is like thirteen pages long, so…

_**Turning Tables**_

**Deeper And Keeper**

Watching the luggage loop around the conveyer belt was beginning to make Adrian dizzy. "Were there really that many people on the plane?" Her shoulder was beginning to tire, too, so she shifted her laptop bag from her right to her left. It was almost a euphoric experience by the time she saw her familiar luggage bag emerge from the mouth of the conveyer and instead of waiting for it to come to her, she wove through the crowd to get to it. Adrian grunted a bit as she plunked it onto the ground and pulled up the handle. She'd brought so many souvenirs back from New York that her suitcase looked like it had overstuffed itself at Thanksgiving dinner and hadn't had a chance to loosen the buttons on its jeans yet.

She trudged towards the doors, looking anxiously from left to right for any sight of her boyfriend. Ben had promised she'd get to see Mercy first thing when she got home and her heart was aching to hold her little bundle of mischief again. When she couldn't find either of them inside, she finally retreated out the doors to the pickup area and spotted the familiar Boykewich family limousine. She suddenly felt like she had springs in place of her heels as she began to run down the sidewalk towards the limo, waving at the same time she was trying to keep her laptop bag on her shoulder.

Surprisingly, Ben did not seem to be anywhere close to the vehicle when she neared it. Confused, she walked around to the back of the limo just to check the license plate which reinforced her previous assessment. She tapped the toe of her boot and then decided to just open of the tinted back doors.

"_¡Mamá!"_

"_¡Preciosista!_ You have no idea how much _Mamá _missed you!" It wasn't until she'd already flung her laptop into the seat and untangled Mercy from her car seat and was smothering her in kisses did she realize that Ben was still nowhere to be found. "Where's Daddy?" Then she noticed a bit of paper sitting in Mercy's car seat, something she couldn't have seen prior because Mercy was sitting on it. Curious, she grabbed the paper and recognize it was an envelope addressed _Adrian_. "Did you know about this?" she asked, looking at her bubbling daughter. She tapped Mercy lightly on the head with the edge of the envelope and then opened it up.

_If you didn't find this, apparently I don't know you as well as I thought. If you did, then you must be wondering why Mercy is there without me. Well, I did promise you that you'd see her, but I never said you'd see me…not right away. Make sure to enjoy your time with Mercy, because Mike is taking you over to Grace's to drop her off. Grace and Kathleen promised they'd babysit her overnight and all her things are already there, so don't try to argue. After you're done visiting with Grace, get back in the limo. Mike knows what to do._

_XO_

_Ben_

"Your daddy's scheming," Adrian said with a giggle. She kissed Mercy's button nose and lifted her shirt to blow a raspberry on her tummy, much to the child's ear piercing delight. "All right then, off to Auntie Grace's house, huh?" She returned the little girl to her car seat and carefully strapped her in, then she returned the letter into the envelope and folded it up so it would fit in her pocket. When she turned around to grab her suitcase, she found it gone. With a heart skip of panic, she took a few steps away from the limo and then realized the trunk was open and Mike was standing behind it, safely depositing her luggage inside. Adrian raised a warning finger once her pulse returned to normal. "Seriously, Mike. I could've done that myself and with no need to feel like I'd just been robbed."

"Sorry," Mike laughed as he pushed the trunk down. "I guess I've already failed my mission."

"What mission?"

"To take care of you and keep you worry free."

Adrian winked. "Well, I'll forget about it if you will."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Already forgotten." Adrian climbed into the backseat and buckled herself in beside her daughter. She leaned over and kissed Mercy's cheek. A few moments later she heard the faint sound of Mike getting back into the front and then heard the motor rev. "Care to tell me what Daddy's got planned?" she asked, giving her daughter a side eyed glance.

"_¡No!"_ Mercy flashed a devilish grin and thudded her legs against the car seat.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Grace was crouched down in the living room, inserting a plastic plug into the wall socket. Once secure, she pushed herself back up just as her mother walked in. "I think I've got all of the ones in here."

"And I've finished the ones upstairs," Kathleen informed. She walked over to the couch and collapsed. "I forgot how much work it is to baby proof a house."

Grace moved to sit beside her mother. Her hand unconsciously fell across her abdomen. "I guess it's a good thing we got it done while I can still see my feet."

"Are you sure you're up for babysitting tonight?" Kathleen asked worriedly.

"I have to learn sometime. Besides, it's not like it's the first time I've babysat. I've just never done so for a fifteen-month-old." She licked her lips. "_Almost _fifteen-month-old."

"Well I'll be just upstairs if you need me."

"I know. Thank you."

Kathleen leaned over to plant a kiss on her daughter's forehead. As she did, the phone began to ring. "I'll get that," she said, patting Grace on the leg.

Grace looked at the wall plug as her mother left the room. She recalled a story about how her father had accidentally left one of the wall plugs out after vacuuming when Tom was a toddler and the latter had attempted to shove licorice into it. She shuddered as she imagined walking in three years from now to find her own child trying something similar.

"Grace?"

The teenager looked up to see her mom walking back in. "Hm?"

"That was George. He said he's on his way over. He was thinking maybe he and I could get a jump start on moving the bigger pieces of furniture from your room into the guest house…" She paused and wriggled her eyebrows. "Or, I guess I need to get used to saying: the spare bedroom into your room. Is that okay with you?"

"Well the security system was installed yesterday and it's not like we've experienced any problems since, so I don't see why not. Are you sure? I was going to help, I didn't expect you and George to do it all by yourselves."

"We were planning on helping anyway. And I promise we'll leave all the decorating details to you, we just want to help you with the problem pieces."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

The doorbell rang and Grace prompted herself off the couch. She stood just inside the living room as her mother answered, ever wary of opening the front door, but as soon as she heard the sound of Mercy's giggle she rushed out to greet her friend.

"Grace!" Adrian delighted. She threw one arm around the blonde while using the other to keep Mercy on her hip. "It feels like I haven't seen you in a year!"

Grace hugged her best friend tightly and then leaned over to kiss Mercy on the cheek. "I'm so glad you're back! Here, come this way, I have something to show you."

Adrian raised an inquisitive eyebrow and gave Kathleen a short nod before following her friend around the Bowman house out to the guest house. She watched curiously as her friend unlocked the door and waved her inside. "Surprisingly empty."

"Yeah, we cleared everything out a couple days ago so the home security guy would have ample room to install the new system in."

"Donations, I bet," Adrian laughed.

"Some," Grace agreed. "But we kept a few things. Right now the garage is pretty stuffed with what we didn't donate. We were planning on just bringing my stuff down from my room and then putting the leftover furniture from the guest house upstairs. What do you think?"

"I think…it looks very not-pink."

"Yeah, I dunno…I guess I just didn't want to be reminded of my old room. Yellow seemed neutral. And happy."

"It's nice," Adrian nodded. She eyed the security system on the wall. "You're going to let me in on the pass code, aren't you?"

Grace thumped the palm of her hand against her forehead. "Yeah, of course! I completely forg–"

Adrian laid a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I was joking, Gracie. You don't have to tell me."

"Yeah, I do, because you're my best friend and I trust you." Grace pulled the Latina over to the control panel and explained how to activate and deactivate the system, then she revealed the numerical pass code. "It was my dad's hospital I.D. number before he went into business with Dr. Hightower."

"Great," Adrian laughed. "I'll add this to my list of ever growing numbers to remember, right after my social, bank account, and student I.D."

"I can write it down for you–"

"It's safer if you don't. Don't worry, I'll work on memorizing it, but not tonight…not when I have a boyfriend plotting something for my long awaited return."

"Speaking of…" Grace held open her arms, accepting Mercy. "Are you going to spend tonight with Aunt Grace?"

"_No."_

"As if she needed to be any more like you," Grace snorted.

"Ignore that," Adrian said, glaring at her daughter. "Ben says it's her new favorite word; she's been using it all week."

"So _no_ finally kicked _mamá_ out of first place, huh?"

Adrian rolled her eyes. "I'm going to sneak out now before she gets too cranky. I don't want to leave you with a temper tantrum on your hands." She hugged Grace and her daughter again. "And Ben–"

"Brought over _everything!_ Including the playpen for her to sleep in overnight. Don't. Worry."

"I don't know what kind of scheme he's roped you into, but…thank you."

Grace nodded enthusiastically. "You're welcome. Have a good night, Adrian."

"You too." Adrian wagged her finger at her daughter. "And you be a good girl!"

"_No."_

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

As soon as the car turned off, Ricky reached for the door in the backseat of his parents' car, but there was a motorized whir and the electronic locks clicked into place. He turned around at the same time Heather did, who was seated beside him, and they both looked towards the front seats at Margaret and Shakur respectively.

"There's one thing you need to do before we go in," Shakur said while unbuckling himself.

Margaret did the same and turned a little so she could see the teenagers between the gap in the front seats. "Take off your shoes."

"_What?"_ Heather and Ricky blurted out unanimously.

"Take off your shoes," Shakur repeated, with a hurried wave of his hand.

"You're not serious," Ricky deadpanned.

Heather looked between her the Shakurs and Ricky, her mouth slightly agape, as if silently asking the latter if this was a usual practice in the household.

"We're very serious," Margaret stated.

"We're tired of the friction in this house. We know you both are good friends and we know you're both better than this."

Ricky glared. "So what does taking off our shoes have to do with anything?"

"When I was young, my cousin came to live with us for a time. We were about the same age and extremely competitive, so the adjustment was difficult at best," Shakur explained. "About six months into his stay, my mother had had enough. When we came home from school, we found all of the shoes in our closets gone…and replaced. She informed us that for the next week, we would be walking a mile in each other's shoes. _Literally._ Not only would be wearing those shoes, but we would be doing each other's chores and making decisions for one another during that time as well. At first, we were brutally antagonistic and we made choices that we knew would upset the other. That was, until we realized that the more vicious our own choices, the more vicious the other would be in retaliation. By the end of the week, we had blistered feet…but we were working as a team to make each other's lives easier, instead of harder. That made it easier for the whole household. Forty years later, we're still as close as brothers."

"I am not wearing her shoes for a week!" Ricky protested.

"No," Margaret agreed. "You're wearing them today, while we do our new clothes shopping."

"Furthermore, you'll be picking out each other's new school clothes," Shakur added.

"No." Ricky folded his arms. "I am not wearing heeled sandals into the store. I don't need new school clothes that badly."

"He's right," Heather agreed, mirroring Ricky's posture. "I didn't plan on getting new clothes in the first place, so I don't need them."

"Look at that," Margaret said amusedly. "They're already agreeing on something."

Shakur nodded. "So what you're both saying is: you'd rather be grounded indefinitely?"

"Indefinitely?!" Ricky yelled. "We didn't do anything!"

"You're absolutely right!" Margaret replied. "You're not doing anything to repair your friendship and you're not living up to the people we all know you're capable of being."

"It's your choice," Shakur shrugged. "We can get out and go shopping for one day or you can sit in your rooms for however long it takes. Just let us know." He opened the glove box and retrieved two thick novels, one of which he handed to his wife and the other he opened himself.

Heather and Ricky turned to each other in the stony silence and stared in disbelief.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian felt the limo stop and heard the engine turn off. She nervously felt around for her seatbelt, since the blindfold over her eyes was keeping her from knowing what was going on. Soon she heard the door to her right open and felt a rush of cool air trace her exposed skin. "Mike?"

"Nope."

"Ben!"

"Give me your hand."

Adrian held out her hand and felt a warm oozy feeling well up inside her when she felt Ben's bony fingers wrap around the underside of her hand. She scooted forward, allowing him to guide her out of the backseat of the limo. "What's going on?"

"It's a surprise."

Adrian felt one of Ben's arms wrap around her waist and nudge her forward. She shakily took a step, then another, and another. Several more followed, during which she was sure she heard the limo start again and drive away.

"Stop."

Adrian waited. She could hear the birds chirping far above her head, but where ever she was, there wasn't much other noise. Then she heard a door open and felt Ben's hands return to her waist.

"Step up."

She complied and tapped her boot, feeling for whatever she was meant to step up onto. It felt like a ledge.

"You're good."

Trusting him, she put her weight onto her foot and lifted the other. It felt warmer, presumably being inside now, but another few steps something immediately assaulted her nose. "What's that–"

"Oh no!"

She felt Ben's hands leave her waist and heard his footsteps run off. "Ben?" A panic grew inside her as the smell of burning grew more prevalent, followed by the sound of a smoke alarm. Immediately, she ripped the blindfold off her face and it took her a moment to see through the cloud of black smoke and realize she was standing in the old Boykewich home. She threw the blindfold to the floor and ran towards the kitchen, where she saw smoke billowing from the running sink. Adrian moved to his side and peered downward, spying a glass dish with what looked like blackened lasagna.

"It's ruined!" he yelled over the blare of the smoke alarm.

Adrian slid her arm around her boyfriend's shoulders. "It's okay."

"No, it's not! I wanted everything to be perfect when you came home. I wanted to make a lasagna for you like you've done for me."

Adrian pitched onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I appreciate the effort, Ben." She grabbed a chair from the kitchen table, pausing briefly to look at the fact that it had been plated for two complete with unlit candles, and then hauled the chair into the hallway where she stood on it to reach and deactivate the smoke alarm. Then she moved around the house opening doors and windows to get the smoke out.

"This was a disaster. I tried to follow a recipe I found online and even though I cooked it the proper amount of time, it was still gooey and undercooked, so I put it back in and now it's charcoal."

"Cooking is an art like drawing or music or painting."

"So you're saying I don't have the talent?"

"No, although to be blunt, some people just don't. But it does require practice and a lasagna is difficult. It's literally a layered process," she laughed.

Ben snorted. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Adrian wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm so happy to be back."

"I missed you so much," Ben whispered into her hair, returning the hug.

"How did you get in here, though? You gave the key to me."

"I gave you the original," Ben grinned. "But I made a copy before you left. I was planning this all along."

Adrian nodded. She was afraid to say anymore, for fear that Ben might ask her once again if she planned to move in with him, but she didn't want to commit to that before seeing how her interview went on Monday morning. "I'll help you clean up."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

They were teal. Teal cork wedge heeled sandals and he could barely move in them. "How?" Ricky asked, looking incredulously at Heather. "How do you do it? For that matter, how do cross dressers do it?"

Heather slugged his arm. "They're easier than shuffling around in these size nine monstrosities. And they smell like ass, too."

"How would you know?"

Heather scowled. "Am I going to have foot fungus when this is over?"

"Am I going to have to have my feet amputated for lack of circulation when this is over?"

"Let's just get this done," Heather sighed. They were in the men's section. "What do you usually get?" She moved to the clearance rack out of habit and began to shove hangers aside. "Here," she said, holding up a black V-neck shirt.

Ricky ambled over to her, walking as if he had a wedgie the whole way. "That's not my size."

"Then what is your size?"

Ricky yanked on the collar of his red t-shirt and pulled it as far as he could away from his neck so Heather could view the tag.

"Okay." Annoyed, she slammed the hanger back on the rack and continued rifling.

Ricky folded his arms. "I usually start over there with the jeans," he said, motioning to the other side of the men's department.

"You know what? It took enough work to get over here, so just deal, okay?"

"Fine," Ricky grunted. "I'll just start where ever I start when we get over to women's."

Heather grit her teeth and looked over at the bench that Margaret and Shakur were waiting at with their books. "We could just pick out our own things and tell them the other did," she whispered.

"Don't let that fool you," Ricky whispered in return. "They're foster parents, used to dealing with multiple kids at one time; they have eyes like hawks."

Heather grunted. "Fine. I'll get over to the jeans in a few minutes." She shuffled her way around the clearance rack and stopped a few inches from where she'd started. "Hey, what about this?" She held up a pair of jeans that looked similar to the style of the ones on the rack Ricky had wanted to look at.

Ricky took the hanger from Heather and inspected them carefully.

"They look like you," she admitted softly.

"Yeah." Ricky peered at the size on the hanger. "But they're a size too small."

"Oh." Heather took them back and was about to replace them on the rack when she chanced a glance at the tag inside the waist. "No, look: they're on the wrong hanger." She rolled her eyes. "Always check the clothes, Underwood. Especially on the clearance racks. People are lazy asses. Here, go try them on. They're marked down like sixty percent."

Ricky slung the jeans over his shoulder. "Okay, but why don't we get a pile first? I don't want to go back and forth between the dressing room like this. As little walking as possible sounds good to me."

"Ditto that."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Two hours later and the place still smells." Ben rubbed his arms. "And it's starting to get cold."

Adrian flounced onto the couch with a blanket in her arms. She unfolded it and threw it over herself and Ben, then scooted in so close that she was nearly in his lap.

"Why don't you just go all the way?"

"Didn't we do that already?"

Ben laughed and pulled Adrian into his lap. He gave her a smooth kiss.

"I missed those."

"Me too."

Ben leaned in to kiss her again, but she held up her finger and he ended up kissing it instead. "What was that for?"

Adrian leaned over to hook the handle of her purse with her index finger. She dragged it up onto the couch and pulled out her cell phone, quickly dialing a number and holding her finger to her lips for Ben to be quiet. "Yes, hi, what are your specials this evening?"

Ben crooked an eyebrow and leaned closer, trying to listen to the other end of the conversation.

"Okay, I'll order a large with extra cheese and garlic on white sauce." She pulled her wallet out of her purse and extracted her debit card. A few minutes later she rattled off her name, her number, the address, and thanked the person on the other end of the line before hanging up.

"You're ordering _pizza_?"

"What's wrong with pizza?"

"How is that at all romantic?"

Adrian smirked. "You've got so much to learn, Benny Boy."

"So how long's the wait?"

"Thirty minutes."

"Any ideas what we can do in the meantime?"

Adrian traced Ben's jawline with her manicured nail. "A few…"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky covered his face with his hands. "I can't believe you're like a sister to me and yet I'm standing in the bra aisle with you."

"I know, right?" Heather smirked. "It'd be so much easier if we were hump buddies."

Ricky shuddered and grabbed for the nearest bra to his hand. "Here!"

"Seriously? _Seriously,_ Underwood."

"What's wrong with it?" Ricky demanded. "It's…lacy…sexy."

Heather let out a long shuddering groan. "Of course you'd find that attractive, it's two cup sizes bigger than what I wear, padded like the Michelin Man, and as itchy as a two day old stubble!"

"Itchy?"

"Ye-ah!" Heather grabbed the violet bra and rubbed the lace overlay against his cheek. When he backed away and returned the bra to the rack. "See my point?"

"But the outside doesn't touch your skin."

"But it's got all that lace trim, see? Try wearing that all day long, it chafes the skin. As if underwire isn't bad enough on its own. That's why I don't wear anything with lace trim, ever. And I loathe padding. I once found a bra with so much padding is like a pair of prosthetic boobs. I wasn't even sure how mine were supposed to fit in there. Bra shopping is a science, Underwood. Some women like that stuff, but not all of us. Me? I prefer the fairly simple styles with the extra coverage. T-shirt bras," she held up a double thumbs up. "And front hooks, those are good too. It might also help if you're looking in the right sizes." She pushed him further down until the racks. "Here. And keep an eye out for red tags."

"You don't just have to shop clearance, Heather."

Heather shrugged. "Habit, I guess. Besides, just a few minutes ago you were gawking at the price tags. Sometimes it sucks being a girl. Bras, tampons, birth control…yeah. If there was one thing living on my own taught me, it was how to hunt for deals." She grinned. "I once found a brand new Maidenform at Kohl's for two dollars and seventy-nine cents on clearance! Guess how much I paid for it after my coupon."

"How much?"

"Two dollars and thirty-two cents, bioatch." Heather held up her hand and snapped it in a Z-formation.

Ricky started to laugh. It felt like old times again, back before moving in together, before the drinking, and before Heather gave her daughter up. He looked at the bra racks again and tried to clear his head about the colors and designs he thought looked hot and instead think of it from Heather's point of view. He spotted a splotch of satiny looking teal a few hangers in and wormed his hand inside the racks to pull it out. He checked the tag, noting that it was the size Heather had pointed out to him and a t-shirt bra to boot, so he held it up to her. "What about this?"

Heather inspected the garment for a few minutes before slapping her friend on the back. "Now you're gettin' it, Rick."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Pizza in candlelight," Ben said as he finished laying a slice of pizza on his girlfriend's plate. "Not what I had in mind."

"I like it."

"Yeah right."

"I do! It may be cliché as hell, but it really is the thought that touches me, Ben." Adrian picked up a champagne flute filled with sparkling white grape juice and offered a toast: "Here's to our daughter. And our family."

Ben lifted his glass and tapped it against Adrian's. "To Mercy. And us." He drank his as Adrian did, but stopped halfway to watch her. He suddenly noticed a glint of something around Adrian's neck. "Is that new?"

"What?" Adrian set her glass down in confusion.

"Around your neck."

Adrian's breath hitched. Her fingers moved to her throat and touched the chain. "Kind of."

"What is it?"

The Latina shook her head. "Nothing."

Ben got up and moved around the table. He stood behind Adrian and began to rub her shoulders. When he felt her relax he moved his hands lower and lower, until the tips of his fingers were touching the chain. He pulled the chain up until it came out of Adrian's shirt and then he realized it was the key, still hot from her body heat. "The thought touches me."

Adrian smiled. "I wore it the whole time," she admitted.

Ben inclined his head so that his forehead was pressed to Adrian's. "Does that mean you have an answer for me?"

"Ben…" the Latina said weakly.

Ben collected Adrian's hands in his own and kissed them. "Adrian, I want this so much. I love you and Mercy so much that I want us to be a proper family."

Adrian pulled her hands away from her boyfriend.

Ben paled. "What? What did I do?"

"It's not what you did," she replied. "It's what you said."

"What?" Ben blinked rapidly in the candlelight. "I just said that I – I love you."

Adrian nodded, her extensive vocabulary failing her.

"It wasn't supposed to come out like that," he said, shaking his head rapidly.

Adrian grabbed Ben's head to hold him still and pulled him down, kissing his lips feverishly.

Ben dissolved against Adrian's ministrations. He grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her hands away from his face. "I _do_ love you," he said.

Adrian felt her mascara running. "I know. I know, because you didn't even mean to say it, you just did. And Ben?"

"What?"

"I love you too."

This time, Ben kissed her. He lost himself in the savory flavor of her lips and the trickle of her mascara tears. When the tears – he hoped, of joy – finally stopped falling, he asked: "So what's holding you back?"

Adrian watched the reflection of the candlelight flickering in his eyes. She eventually shook her head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Ben held his breath. "So does that mean…does that mean 'yes'?"

Adrian kissed his lower lip and held her mouth against it to whisper, _"Sí."_


	20. Moving Sin And Out

**A/N:** I just want to warn everyone that when I look at this chapter in the FFN uploader, there's a double space gap between two lines of dialogue in the Ricky-Heather scene. No matter what I do in my Word document to fix it, it won't go away in the FFN uploader. Maybe FFN is just having a bad day or something. But whatever, it's irritating the crap out of me, but I don't want to delay the update on the off chance that it will get off its electronic 'tude.

_**Turning Tables**_

**Moving Sin And Out**

"I did not see what I think I just saw!"

"You did."

"Is it even legal for them to make you wear that?"

"I guess if I want the job. And since I stupidly told Ben yes, I can't back down now: I _have_ to get that job."

"You told Ben you loved him, that's not stupid."

"No, that wasn't stupid. Or untrue. But giving him a yes before we're financially stable was. I did it in the heat of the moment…I was just so overcome by everything and, ugh. _¡Estúpido!_"

"You'll work it out–" Suddenly the sound of crying blared through the speakers and on Adrian's laptop screen, Bristol turned her head towards the open door. She turned back with a miserable smile.

Adrian raised her hand towards the webcam. "You have to go, I understand."

"I'm sorry," Bristol squeaked. "But he caught a nasty cold while I was in New York and when he's not sleeping, he's miserable." She winced. "Strike that: even when he is sleeping he's miserable, he's just not as loud."

Adrian waved. "I'll talk to you later."

"Bye. And good luck!"

Adrian shut her laptop down as her bedroom door creaked open. She tried not to pay attention as her mother walked in, but Cindy made that impossible by coming to sit down on the bed beside her. "Yes?"

"Was that a friend from New York?"

"Yes."

Cindy nodded. "What was she wishing you good luck about?"

Adrian strummed her long nails against her laptop. "It's personal."

"Ben personal?" Cindy folded her arms. "You didn't come home until almost five in the morning and I know you were with Ben."

"That was no secret, I figured Ben had already worked that out with everyone. He had a date planned, that's not a crime."

"No…but neither you nor Ben have spoken to Leo or I."

"So now you have each other on speed dial?"

"I'm sure you must've talked about your decision."

"Maybe we did. Or maybe we just stayed in bed all night. It's really only our business. But don't fret, we will sit you and Leo down and have 'the talk,' just like you said we had to. But since Leo nor Ben is here, that talk won't be now." With that, she pounded out of the room.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"You're up early."

"_She_ was up early," Grace said, pointing to Mercy in her highchair, seated in the middle of the Bowmans' kitchen.

"Food processor?" Kathleen asked with surprise.

"The morning sickness has lifted a lot over the past week," Grace explained. "I've been back in the kitchen a little more. It feels good."

"So what're you making?"

"Homemade papya mango baby breakfast."

Kathleen grabbed a banana out of the fruit bowl and watched while Grace scraped the blended fruit out of the processor and into a bowl. "Smells good, even I'm tempted to try some."

"Smells better than those foul jars of baby food."

"The banana ones aren't that bad."

"Try 'turkey dinner.'" The teenager shook her head and made a gagging noise to emphasize her position. "Don't tell your mommy," she said, rounding the island to Mercy's highchair, "but I chucked that one."

Mercy eyed the bowl on her tray tepidly.

"You'll like it!" Grace promised, dipping the spoon into the bowl and nudging it at the little girl's mouth.

Mercy clamped her lips shut.

"Come on, Mercy. Auntie Grace made this just for you! Look!" She grabbed another spoon and ate a bite herself. "It's like apple sauce, only yummier!"

Mercy remained resolute, even choosing to push the bowl away.

Grace tapped her foot in annoyance. "Come on, you have to eat."

George stumbled into the kitchen dressed in slippers and a robe, having clearly spent the night. He was still yawning when he noticed the standoff at the highchair. "Someone being a picky pants?"

"Tom was just like that at her age," Kathleen sighed. "Even worse when he hit two."

George scoffed. "You shoulda seen Ash! Worst. Baby. Award." He pulled a chair over beside Grace and sat down in front of Mercy. "Mind if I give her a shot?"

Grace dropped the spoon into the bowl. "Be my guest."

George leaned in and gave Mercy a good stare down, then he hooked his index fingers to the sides of his mouth and pulled his cheeks apart to reveal all his teeth. Soon he began sticking out his tongue and making strange zoo-like noises that eventually began to sound something like a monkey. When he noticed Mercy beginning to smile, he got up and began to run around the kitchen, scratching himself and dragging one leg like an orangutan.

Mercy began to giggle and slap her tray. Soon she began to tug at her lips, attempting to imitate George's facial expressions.

George returned to his seat and dipped his finger into the bowl. He sniffed the fruit and then licked his fingers. Suddenly he stood and began to beat his chest before eating some more of the food.

Mercy watched carefully and finally shoved her little fist into the bowl. When she had a sufficient handful, she pushed her hand at her mouth and licked it curiously. Her eyes grew in delight and she began to hit her chest with her dirty and clean hands before shoving them both into the bowl and eating more of her papaya mango.

George turned towards his girlfriend and her dumbfounded daughter with a delighted expression on his face. "Works every time."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Adrian, it's Ben. I'm leaving another message before I go to work. Where are you? Why did you leave this morning? We still have a lot to talk about. Please call me back." Ben shut his cell and set it onto the bathroom counter facedown while he dried off and threw on a fresh pair of jeans, a white undershirt, and a button down dress shirt. He was shaking up his shaving cream when the cell began to ring. "Hello?" he asked, flipping it open without looking. "Adrian?"

"Your father."

Ben grumbled. "Hi, Dad."

"You didn't come home last night."

"No, I didn't. I thought that was implied."

"It wasn't. But I take it Adrian isn't with you. Did something happen?"

"No," Ben replied agitatedly. "She's fine, we're fine, she just left before I got a chance to say goodbye."

"I see. So is it implied that you'll not be showing up at work either?"

"I'm on my way right now," Ben said. He turned his phone onto speaker and slathered some shaving cream on his face and neck.

"How did things go last night with Adrian?"

"I know what you're getting at and I'm not falling for it. I gotta go, Dad. See you at work. Bye!" The seventeen-year-old finished shaving, splashed his face with some Trumper's Skin Food aftershave and attempted to call Adrian again on his way out the front door, but his call went directly to his voicemail.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Looks like breakfast went well."

"Adrian!" Grace jumped, whirling around to find her friend in the kitchen beside her mother. "I wasn't expecting you to be here so early."

"I didn't want to trouble your mom with babysitting after you left for class." Adrian approached her sloppy, sticky, fruit covered daughter and took her from Grace's arms with amusement. "Looks like she had a good time."

"_No."_

"Liar!" Grace said, pointing accusingly at the tiny Latina. "She was having none of it at first, then George waltzes in here and starts monekeying around – and that's not even a turn of phrase – and then suddenly she's mimicking him and eating and…"

"Needing a bath."

"Yeah, that. I was just on my way upstairs to do that."

"I can take it from here if you want to get ready to go."

"Are you sure? I didn't want to leave you with a mess when you got here."

"It's not a problem, she does this periodically." Adrian sniffed her daughter's hands. "What did you feed her, anyway?"

"Just mango and papaya, nothing special."

Adrian nodded. "I'll put those on the shopping list."

"It didn't come out of a jar."

Adrian smirked. "Knowing you, I already figured that out. Thanks for watching her last night, Grace." She nodded in the direction of Kathleen. "Mrs. Bowman."

"It was a pleasure," Kathleen said, motioning Adrian up the stairs. "It was kind of nice having a little girl in the house again." She motioned to Adrian. "You can give her a bath upstairs."

Adrian shook her head. "It's all right, I can–"

"You're already here," the elder woman pointed out.

Since she didn't want to go back to her house or risk running into Ben at the condo, Adrian gave in with a sigh and followed Kathleen into the upstairs bathroom.

"Did you have a nice time with Ben?"

"It wasn't quite what I expected, but, yes, it was good. Thank you." Adrian rinsed out the bath first and began to run warm water for a new bath. "Where's George, by the way?" She winced, realizing that might sound noisy after the fact. "I just wanted to thank him for getting Mercy to eat," she amended. "She's difficult, as you might have noticed."

"He already left, but I'll relay the message. He's, uh…moving some stuff over."

Adrian turned off the water. "He's moving in then? Grace mentioned it, she said you hadn't decided anything for certain though."

"It's certain. We'll be working on Grace's move down to the guest house and George's move into the house all this week."

"Congratulations," the Latina said. She peeled Mercy's clothes off, balled up her diaper, and knelt down beside the tub to sit the little girl into the water.

"I'll go grab her diaper bag," Kathleen said, excusing herself.

Adrian playfully splashed water at her daughter while being careful to hold the little girl upright. Her mind began to wander towards the calls from Ben that she'd been ignoring on her way to her job interview, before she'd turned off her cell. It was a likely bet he was still calling, but she didn't want to have to deal with that just yet, so she didn't plan on turning her phone on again until after he was supposed to be at work. She was, however, anxious to hear back from her potential employers, but there was no telling when that might happen.

"Dada."

Adrian shook her head. "Don't remind me, Missy. _Mamá_'s got enough on her plate."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"For a boy, I have to give you props. This is a badass bra."

"You can stop patting your upper chest area now, thanks."

"What?" Heather laughed. "We're always faux flirting with one another, what's got your briefs in a bunch now?"

"That was before we were roommates and faux siblings," he said, imitating the way she said the word. "And before I had to go undergarment shopping with you."

"You'd think that would make you more comfortable joking with me."

"Not so much." Ricky pulled into the school parking lot. "Did you even wash that before you put it on?" At her silence he screwed up his face.

"What? It's not like it's underwear. Well, it _is_, but you know what I mean. What's _really_ gross is when people don't sanitize their toothbrushes before using them."

"What?"

"You don't?"

"They come in closed packages."

"You don't know where they've been before they got inside those packages!"

Ricky flinched. "I never thought about that. But the same goes for clothes."

"Yeah, but I'm not going to put clothes in my mouth. At least not the inedible ones." Heather pushed out of the car door and opened up the backseat to get her backpack. "Hey, Rick?"

"Hm?"

"Gonna pick me up on time today?"

"Yes," he intoned, rolling his eyes.

"Good." Heather shut the door and took a step away from the car before immediately turning back. She opened the front passenger door again. "Hey, uh…are you doing anything tonight?"

"Not that I know of, why?"

Heather tapped her foot. "I just thought since, y'know, we're on speaking terms again…if maybe you wanted to come to another one of my AA meetings tonight?"

"Count me in."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

By the time Thursday afternoon had rolled around, Adrian had been skillfully avoiding her mother for three-and-a-half days. The previous day, Ben's day off, had been spent discussing how and when to sit their parents down and tell them of their decision to move in together. Adrian had managed to put it off until Sunday, Ben's next day off, in the hopes of hearing back about the job. But with each passing day, those hopes were dwindling.

"I've been seeing Dr. Fields," Grace admitted as they window shopped the second floor of the mall.

"I think this whole town does," Adrian said, shaking her thoughts off like Autumn leaves. "Is he helping?"

"I don't know yet." Grace paused at the window of a baby boutique. "I still struggle talking about what happened."

"So did I," Adrian nodded. "After what happened with Bob. But Dr. Fields is good at coaxing things out of you that you never thought you'd say. Or even knew you had to say."

Grace chuckled. "I just hope I can make progress before January."

Adrian glanced at her daughter, asleep in her stroller. "You're going to put that bastard away, Grace. I can feel it."

Grace began to move again. "I keep praying for strength."

"You already have strength."

"It doesn't feel like it." The blonde shook her head. "But I don't want to talk about that anymore, I shouldn't have brought it up. What's up with you and Ben? How's the whole condo thing going?"

"About that," Adrian groaned. "It's not. Yet. We're breaking the news Sunday evening. Much to my chagrin."

"I still can't believe all the changes happening right now. Jack moving away, you and Ben, my mom and George…" Grace's hand moved to her belly.

"About that," Adrian said. "Your mom and George were married once upon a time. Do you think they actually have a shot?"

Grace shrugged. "Maybe. Obviously I wasn't around back then so I don't have any firsthand knowledge, but they seem pretty serious. My mom says he's been engaged three times, married twice, divorced once and somehow still made his way back to her. At any rate, she's pretty happy, so maybe. But then there was a time when I thought Jack and I would be together forever, so who can really say? You never know whom will end up with whom." It occurred to her that she was rambling. "On the subject of changes, you want to hear another?"

"What?"

"We might be getting a dog."

"Really?"

"Yeah, George's idea. I guess he's thinking guard dog or something. As if the security system isn't enough. My mom suggested looking into the dogs who failed the guide dog program and weren't taken back by their trainers. I'm not sure how helpful that would be."

"That's going to go over like a lead balloon."

"What?"

Adrian shook her head. "Ashley. She always wanted a dog, but even when her parents were still married, her mom never liked the idea. Now George is living with you _and_ you're getting a dog…"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I had no idea. Ashley's not exactly a fan."

"My point."

"You think I should talk to her about it before George does?"

Adrian's cell phone went off before she could answer, waking Mercy in the process. She held up her finger and stepped away to answer it. "Hello?"

"Ms. Lee?"

"Yes?"

"We're calling about the position you interviewed for at the food court."

Adrian's heart stilled. "Yes?"

"If you still want it, you got it."

Adrian sucked in a deep breath and looked at Grace, her eyes looking ready to pop from her pent up excitement. She waved her hand anxiously. "Yes. Yes! I still want the job, I definitely still want the job. Thank you!"

"We'll e-mail you to set up a training schedule."

Adrian nodded, even though the body language was meaningless over the phone. "Sounds great! Thank you so much!" Seconds later she hung up and screamed into her hand. "I got it!"

Grace clapped her hands like a child and proceeded to hug Adrian until the latter couldn't breathe. "I knew you would!"

Adrian wiped beneath her eyes. "Is my mascara running?" She fanned her face. "I'm shaking. This is just a stupid job, but–"

"It's not. It's your whole future falling into place. When are you going to tell Ben?"

"Tonight." She began to type up a text message at breakneck speed. "You have no idea how ecstatic he's going to be."

"Looking at you, I think I do."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Hours later, when Ben walked through the front door of the condo, he could smell pizza, no doubt heated up leftovers from Sunday night. He found the table set with a single plate and two pieces of leftover pizza, but he also saw an envelope sticking out from under it with his name on it. Curious, he opened the envelope and shook out the letter inside. After reading it he spun around and found Adrian in the hallway.

"Hungry?"

Ben held up the letter. "Is this for real?"

Adrian nodded.

Ben tossed the letter onto the table and rushed at Adrian, scooping her off her feet and whirling her around.

Adrian threw her arms around his neck. "Stop! You're going to make me puke!"

"How long have you known?"

"Just today…but I went in for the interview Monday."

"You should've told me."

"I didn't want to get your hopes up."

"This is perfect."

"I know." Ben started to carry Adrian down the hall, but she tugged at his collar. "What are you doing?"

"Celebrating?"

Adrian shook her head. "Put me down."

"What?"

"Put me down."

Frowning, Ben complied. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Adrian kissed him. "But I told you before: I don't want to do break in the bed until things are official."

"Aren't they?"

"Not until we've signed the rental agreement."

"Don't remind me."

Adrian looped her finger through the top button hole of Ben's shirt and tugged him back towards the kitchen. "But there's still the backseat of my car."

"We might wake the neighbors."

Adrian grinned. "They'll need to get used to it."

"What about–"

Adrian retrieved an Italian condom from her pocket and waved it before Ben's eyes.

"I love your mind."

"That's funny, because I wasn't thinking about your mind at all." She hungrily pulled him out the front door.


	21. Old At Heart

**A/N: **Making some headway on my chapters. My goal is to have season three finished by the start of the new semester. We'll see. (As a precaution, I'm rating this chapter "M" for language. And a scene near the end.)

_**Turning Tables**_

**Old At Heart**

"I'm really disappointed, son."

"Why? Because I'm making my own life choices?"

"Because you're making the _wrong_ life choices."

"You were the one who encouraged me to do it."

"No, I presented you with an option because you were so persistent and upset about the rules I made. I had hoped that it would make you think like an adult and realize that you were wrong."

"I guess in the months and years that follow, you will be the one seeing that _you_ were wrong."

"For your sake, I hope that's true." Leo followed his son down the stairs as the latter carried a large box full of Mercy's stuffed animals. He stopped suddenly and pressed his hand to his collarbone.

Ben got to the bottom of the stairs and realized his dad was still halfway up. He frowned. "Dad?"

Leo waved him off. "I'm going to go lie down, I'm sure you've got everything covered."

Ben grunted. "Whatever." He carried the box out to the driveway and loaded it into the back of his car.

A few minutes later George pulled up in one of furniture moving vans from his store and waved to Ben. "Is your dad here?" he asked nervously.

"Upstairs, why?"

"I just feel a little uncomfortable about all this. I want to help you out, but I know your dad isn't happy about you moving."

"It's okay if you'd rather back out, I'm not asking you to put Adrian and I before our friendship with my father."

George shook his head. "Nah, I'm already here. I did talk to your dad about this before and he said he was fine with it, even though his body language was saying something else. So what are we moving?"

"Basically the things in Mercy's room and everything that's boxed up in my room. We're not moving the furniture in my room since everything else is already set up at the condo. Henry and Alice are upstairs now, taking apart the crib."

"Alrighty," George said, performing a mock salute. "I'll go check with the troops then."

"Actually," Ben said, shutting his trunk, "I'm headed back up there anyway, so I'll come with."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"So tomorrow's the day. Does that mean if I drop in at the food court, you'll have to feed me?"

"I'm not sure, there's some kind of new hire process I'm supposed to go through first. That should be fun," Adrian deadpanned.

"I still can't believe your uniform. Tell me the guys' are equally as hideous."

"I'd rather be wearing the guys' uniforms, at least they get to be in slacks. Lime and tangerine striped slacks, mind you, but slacks nonetheless. I just have to keep telling myself: 'This is for Ben and Mercy.'"

Grace ran a strip of clear packing tape over a box filled with Mercy's bottles, bowls, and plastic baby silverware.

"By the way, I almost forgot!" Adrian disappeared down the hall and returned moments later wheeling Mercy's old bassinet in front of her. "This is the one D.A. Enriquez sent me when I was pregnant. I was thinking, maybe you might want it?"

Grace exited the kitchen. "Oh, Adrian, it's still in pristine condition, I couldn't–"

"Babies aren't cheap, Grace, and I promise, Ben and I aren't planning on having another one. Not for years and years anyway, so it's yours. If we ever do have need for it again, you can always give it back."

Grace sniffed and reached out to hug her friend. "I appreciate it."

"And if I come up with anything else you could use, I'll let you know."

"Thank you."

Adrian hugged her friend tightly. "Okay then, I think I've got everything boxed that we can stuff into our cars at this point, so anything left over will have to wait." She glided over to the portable playpen and lifted Mercy out, playfully spinning her in a circle. "You, Little Miss, might just have to ride on the roof!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"You're really not going to give me a ride?" Heather asked with her arms crossed.

"You have a bus ticket."

"Stop pouting, it makes you old like a grumpy old man."

"I'm not pouting," Ricky glared. "I'm just not going to waste my gas and time helping them move. Between George, Grace, and good old Asian Persuasion, I think they've got it covered. It's_ just_ three rooms."

"You're jealous."

"I think they're making a mistake, that's all."

"You think _Adrian's _making a mistake."

"Same difference."

"Ha!" Heather shrugged. "Fine, whatever, Underwood. I'll catch the bus then. You have a good Sunday afternoon wallowing in your feels. And no, that's not a euphemism!"

Ricky rolled over on his bed. His eyes super glued to the calendar on his wall. There was only a week left before the new school year started and it seemed way too soon. He picked his cell phone up and dialed his other best friend's number.

"You rang?"

"Yes, Lurch. Are you busy?"

"You're calling because Heather went to help with the move, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I'm surprised, you're not? You were pretty chummy there with Adrian for a while."

"You know why not."

"Because you're mad at your dad for moving in with the Bowmans?"

"So perceptive."

"You wanna hang out?"

"Not really. I have a headache right now, so I'm in bed."

"Oh." Ricky dejectedly returned to lying on his back. "Guess I should let you go then?"

"I just took some Advil, it should be kicking in soon."

"Hope you feel better," Ricky sighed. "Bye, Ash." He hung up but remained staring at his phone. Eventually he dialed in a second number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is Nora Underwood available?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"So are we ever going to see you again?" Henry asked as he knelt in the nursery at the condo, attempting to figure out how to put the pieces of the crib back together.

"Of course you'll see me, why would you even ask that?"

"I mean outside of school." Henry poked at one of the legs of the crib with a screwdriver. "What I'm trying to say is: I know that if I had an apartment with Alice, I'd never leave."

"We do have lives. And jobs."

"Making free time better spent in bed."

"Is sex all you think about?"

"Possibly."

"Well it's not for me. Granted, with a girlfriend like Adrian, it's hard to _not_ think about, but it's not on my mind twenty-four/seven."

"Out of the way, out of the way!" Alice bellowed, pushing her way into the nursery. She nudged her boyfriend with her shoe and opened her hand: "Screwdriver. Clearly putting this back together is going to take a woman."

"My dad put it together the first time, but he's not really an option this time around."

"He was looking pretty bad when I saw him earlier."

"Bad mood. He's been like this all week, ever since we broke the news to him on Sunday night. I think he knew it was coming so he had all that time to stew about it. I wish he would've just gotten used to the idea. Adrian and I moving in together was inevitable."

"Like it or not, he had a valid point, Ben. You're lucky he's not going back on his word. You're still underage. If he wanted to, he could," Alice said.

Ben made a face at the back of his friend's head. "You wanna stay and work on this while Henry and I go pick up another load?"

"I can feel the annoyance radiating off you like a nuclear test site, so go, I'll have this done by the time you get back."

"Thanks, Alice."

Henry gave Alice a quick peck on the lips before leaving.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Heeeey, what are you doing back so soon?" Kathleen asked. "I thought you were gone helping Adrian move all day?"

Grace squinted suspiciously. "Did I walk in during the middle of something?" She chose not to add _again_.

"Nooo."

Grace tapped her foot. "I don't believe you, but since you clearly don't want me to walk any further into the house, is it an inconvenient time to bring you out to the guest house?" She shook her head. "_My_ room; I have to get used to saying that."

"'Course not!" Kathleen eagerly pushed her daughter out the front door and followed her to the guest house. "Did Adrian drop you off?"

"No, she's out in the car." Grace opened the door and motioned to the bassinet beside the new bed that George had given her. The fact that the assault had happened in the previous one had been the primary reason she didn't want to move it down to her new room. "Adrian gave it to me. It was Mercy's; practically new. It was on the way, so she said we could drop it off. I just–" she shrugged "–wanted to show you. I don't know."

Kathleen touched her daughter's shoulder. "I know we haven't really looked into baby things that much–"

"I wasn't trying to guilt you into that, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't. I know it's been hard for you to think about the future and I haven't wanted to push, but we both know time's closing in."

"Every time I look in the mirror I'm reminded of that. Babysitting Mercy a couple weeks ago really reminded me of it."

"You have another doctor's appointment on Thursday."

"I haven't forgotten."

"They said you can find out the sex of the baby, if you want."

Grace gave a wary nod. "I don't know if I do."

"It's completely up to you."

"I know." Grace contemplated the bassinet. "Adrian's waiting in the car," she said after a time. "I better get out there before she runs out of gas and comes looking for me." She hugged her mother a little more tightly than she meant to. "See you tonight!"

"I started the slow cooker after you left this morning, so it should be ready by the time you get home."

"Sounds great, Mom."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I remember coming here with you when you were little," Nora said, a nostalgic glaze in her eyes. "When you were a baby I used to push you around in the stroller for hours." She stopped to look across the park at a grassy area to the left of the jungle gym. "I got you this little plastic bat and ball for your third birthday and I'd bring you out here and throw the ball for you." She shook her head. "You probably don't even remember that."

Ricky looked across the park in the direction Nora was. His earliest memory was of choking on French fry from a McDonald's Happy Meal. It was vivid, but he suspected, only because it had been traumatic. The second earliest involved a plastic yellow bat. The latter was fuzzy though and he couldn't quite remember the setting or if it involved Nora, but using his imagination, he could step outside of himself: he could place his three-year-old self on that grassy expanse, waving his toy bat at some silly plastic baseball. "It was a long time ago," he admitted.

Nora nodded, saddened. "It was," she agreed. "I didn't expect you to remember." It wasn't said maliciously, it was simply a fact.

"What made you get me a ball and bat?"

She laughed. "You always liked the games. I liked to watch them. I dabbled a bit in softball when I was in high school, but it never went anywhere, obviously. Still, I liked to watch the games and so did you, always with your eyes glued to the screen from your playpen."

They resumed walking down the pathway that curved through the park. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How – why – did you get with Bob?"

"Oh." Nora began to nervously play with the split ends of her hair. "It's a complicated answer."

"I'm smarter than I look." Ricky looked across the park and motioned to a pair of swings. "And we've got all day, if that helps."

Nora's chest inflated and deflated twice before she nodded. "It might take it." She followed her son over to the swings and sat down on one, smiling childishly. "I haven't been on a swing in forever."

Ricky dug the toes of his shoes around in the sand in the well under his feet. "Me too."

Nora gave a little push and let gravity take over, slowly swinging her back and forth. She began to play with her hair again. "Do you know who Harvey Milk is?"

"The first openly gay man to be elected to California public office."

"The first openly gay man elected to public office in the United States. Not to be confused with Kathy Kozachenko, the first openly lesbian woman to run and successfully be elected to U.S. public office in 'seventy-four, but in Ann Arbor, not California. I was seventeen and fourteen during their respective wins."

"Did you know them or something?"

"I wish!" Nora pushed the toes of her shoes into the playground sand. "But no. Harvey Milk was assassinated less than a year after he was elected, in 'seventy-eight. I was eighteen and I'd been in the closet ever since I was twelve and realized I had a crush on a girl, while all my friends were gushing about boys. I thought there was something wrong with me for a long time, then Nancy Wechsler came out and soon Kathy Kozachenko was elected. I started to think, 'Maybe I'm not so different after all?' But by that time, I'd already been pretending to be straight for so long that I didn't know how to tell everyone I'd been lying to them the whole time."

"And after the assassination, it felt safer to just continue that lie?"

"I didn't just continue it, I tried to make myself believe it! I tried to find the biggest, burliest, most 'masculine' men I could and I'd cling to them, trying to prove to myself and the world that it was right. It never worked out, of course. I even got the shit beat out of me a few times, but I always prided myself in being able to leave those bastards."

"Then why didn't you leave Bob?"

"Valid question," Nora sighed. "And the answer is, when I met him, he was a charmer. I know you can't understand, Ricky, but that lying sack of shit was good at making people believe he was something he wasn't. He was a bomb, but he only exploded when the time was right for him: in private. Back then, he seemed manly enough for the illusion I wanted and yet he seemed to treat me better than the others. Little did I know that he would turn out to be the deadliest of all of 'em."

"It started when I was five," Ricky spoke quietly. "What happened the first four years?"

"Well I married him and almost immediately got pregnant with you. We did well for a while. He got promoted: 'family values' and all that B.S. Looking back, I guess there were signs, but at the time I thought we were just going through the normal fights any couple has. He didn't actually start pushing me around until after you were born. But I didn't leave him because…"

"Of me."

"I barely finished high school, Ricky. I knew I was no single mother material. I thought I could take it; a black eye here and there, a bloody nose. It wasn't anything I hadn't experienced before and lived to talk about. When you were about a year old, I finally decided to get tough, I started pushing back. I gave him a black eye once. I think that shocked his ass. He backed off for a while, maybe a year, until he got laid off because of cutbacks. With him home all the time, drinking our savings away, I got pissed. We started fighting, usually at night, then it bled into the daytime. I remember you used to scream for hours listening to us. That only angered him more. He started breaking things: your toys, appliances, and finally a music box that belonged to my grandmother. I was so angry I could've killed him; I wish I had."

"Your retaliated?" he asked, thinking about the rage he'd felt the day he beat Bob up for kidnapping Adrian.

"I keyed 'asshole' into his car, all caps. I wasn't even drunk."

"And?"

Nora dug her feet into the dirt, pulling to a stop. "He broke my arm."

"But you still didn't leave him."

"The police were suspicious, but I lied. I lied because he was scared shitless about nearly getting caught and I foolishly thought that gave me the upper hand, broken or not. That whole incident put another delay on the abuse, during which time he went out and found his share of sweet things to keep him preoccupied. After my arm healed I got into the maid business for a while, just trying to make ends meet. But that meant daycare, because I wasn't going to leave you with him, and that was _so _expensive…"

"You stole?"

"I'm not proud of it. The more I did it though, the more confident I got that I could get away with it. Until one of the women I worked for walked in while I was dropping one of her diamond bracelets into my empty Four-O'-Nine bottle. I got slapped in jail for four days but the woman I stole from didn't choose to take it any further. I guess she felt sorry for me or something." Nora suddenly pushed herself off the swing. "You wanna grab a bite?"

"That's all?"

"No," she said, "but I'm starving, so if you can stomach anymore, I'll tell you over lunch, my treat."

"Can you afford it?"

"Remember that job I told you I was applying for last time I saw you?" At his nod she grinned proudly. "Well you're looking at the new part time librarian. It doesn't pay much, but it is on the straight and narrow."

"Sexuality not included?"

Nora chuckled. "See, you _are_ my kid."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Ben, can I have a word with you?"

The winter chill of Camille's tone stopped Ben in his tracks. She'd always spoken to him in the way that a mother might speak to her children when waking them up for their first day of Kindergarten. Before his mother died, she'd been like an aunt in his life, someone he always loved to be around. Now, she sounded more like an angry school teacher. "About what?" he asked, setting his defenses on high alert.

"I've known you and your father a very long time, Ben, since you were just a baby, and this past week has been the most immature I've ever seen either of you."

"Well I'm sorry you think that, but frankly, it's really none of your business, Camille."

"I told Leo that he shouldn't have allowed you to do this, but he did it anyway. Can't you see what it's doing to him? Don't you see the stress he's under?"

"Can't you see how stressful it is to raise a child under two roofs? I'm sorry that I have to choose between my dad and my daughter, but I'm thinking of her future right now."

Camille shook her head. "Is that what you tell yourself?"

Ben gawked. "You've always been like family, Camille, but right now…you're not. You have no say in this, so you need to back off." He stormed out of the front door, slamming it behind him.

"Ben, what's wrong?" Henry asked as his friend got into the driver's seat of the car and slammed that door too.

"I'm sick and tired of people butting into my business!"

"Oh." Henry clamped his mouth shut.

Ben put his car into reverse. "I didn't mean you. I meant Camille. And my dad. And everyone else who keeps trying to tell me that moving in with Adrian is wrong. Screw them! I'm happy. Can't they see I'm happy? _We're_ happy. Doesn't that count for anything?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Ricky picked at his sub sandwich while he watched his birth mother nibble on a sugar cookie.

"_It's not very tree-ish, is it?" Nora asked, poking at the edges of a blob of off-white cookie dough that was in a vague triangle shape._

"_Sprinkles!" The four-year-old helpfully held up a bottle of green sprinkles, oblivious to the misshapenness of the dough._

"_If you think so," she laughed, motioning for her son to sprinkle the colored bits of sugar on top. "But be care–" But the sprinkles came out in a gush before she could finish, topping the dough blot with a fourth of an inch of green sugar. _

_Ricky grinned and licked his finger before shoving it into the pile of sprinkles. The sugar coated his left index and he proceeded to lick it all off in delight._

"_What the hell," Nora shrugged. "You only live once!" She licked her finger and shoved it into the sugar crystals too._

"I remember helping you make a batch of those for Christmas."

"You remember that?"

"We smoked out the whole apartment."

"Never was much of a cook," Nora smirked.

"Yeah." Ricky pulled a slice of oil and vinegar covered tomato out of his sub. "And I remember what happened when Bob came home too."

Nora set the last bite of her cookie onto her napkin. "Hint taken," she sighed. She let her head roll back to gaze at the ceiling. "Where did I leave off?" She thought for a moment and then began, "One of Bob's little whores got him a job at her husband's construction business when you were four. It paid more than anything he'd ever had before, plus he was getting sex and drugs on the side."

"That's the one he lost when I was five," Ricky realized.

"Yeah. It was all rainbows and sunshine for him until what's-her-name lost interest and started screwing one of the other construction workers. She told him he wasn't a real man," Nora smirked. "He became so insane with jealousy and loathing that he went about trying to catch them in the act for a week and when he did, it came to blows. That's how he got fired."

"A real man," Ricky muttered. "Maybe that's what started it."

"He was never a real man." Nora put her head down. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I never took you away. I should have; I should've done it the first time he hit me. It's not an excuse, but by the time he started in on you I was done. It was like I just went on auto pilot. It doesn't even make sense, but that's it; that's all I can say."

"If you'd taken me away, I never would've ended up with Margaret and Shakur."

"They gave you a better life than I ever could have. But at an unforgivable cost."

"I used to think that – that it was unforgivable – but not anymore. It's – it's okay to have two moms." Ricky shrugged. "Or even three, you never know."

Nora smiled. "I gotta admit: Margaret did all right with you."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Grace opened the front door expecting to smell the aroma of simmering beef mixed with soft potatoes, carrots, and cabbage. Instead, she heard a loud bark and felt a pair of off white paws land on her shoulders and a giant pink tongue lap at her face.

"Surprise!" George shouted.

Kathleen peeked out from behind her boyfriend with a nervous smile on her face. "What do you think?"

"I think…" Grace turned her face, trying to avoid the getting licked on the lips by the canine. "…he's very excitable."

"His name's Moose!" George said proudly.

"Moose?" Grace repeated, unimpressed.

"They come named, we didn't choose it," Kathleen explained. "The people who train them for the guide dog program name them."

"Right." Grace wormed her way out from under the pale lab and patted his head. "He seems friendly." She eyed her mother. "Was this what you were trying to hide from me earlier?"

"We wanted to surprise you."

"Has Tom seen him?"

"Not yet," Kathleen grinned. "Tammy's father is bringing him back home in an hour, so we'll see what he has to say then."

Grace eyed the exuberant hound and rolled her eyes, giving in to scratching Moose behind his ears. "Doesn't seem like much of a guard dog to me."

"They say he's very loyal," George said.

"I bet." Grace licked her lips. "Have you told Amy and Ashley?"

George looked down guiltily. "I tried to get Ash to come over, but she, uh, didn't want to. Ames was busy. She didn't say with what though. I didn't want to push."

"Well, one thing's for sure: Tom's gonna love him!"

"You think so?"

"Are you kidding?" Grace bent down and scrubbed Moose's neck, who eagerly returned the affection by licking her cheek. "Yeah," she laughed. "I like you too."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Dusk had fallen across the sky, causing the deep cerulean to intersperse with splashes of violet and magenta. The sky looked a bit like cotton candy ice cream melting in a giant bowl. "So…"

"So…"

"Do you want to do the honors?" Ben asked.

Adrian dipped her hand down her collar and caught the chain around her neck. She lifted it over her head and produced the condominium key. As Ben held their sleeping daughter, she unlocked the door to their new home and let it swing open.

Ben offered his hand and smiled when Adrian took it. Together, he stepped inside with her and stood for a moment in the entryway.

"This is real, right?"

"It's real."

Adrian nodded and shut the door, locking it behind her. She walked with Ben to Mercy's new nursery and watched him tuck their daughter into her crib. A warmth was spilling over in the pit of her stomach; he'd never looked more natural.

"Sweet dreams," Ben whispered, leaning over to kiss his daughter's forehead.

Adrian kissed the tuckered out little girl as well and then slipped into the hallway, allowing Ben to click the door as he came out. Almost immediately she felt him take her by the arm and pull her towards him, kissing her heatedly. She felt her pulse speed up as she returned the kiss.

Ben kissed her all the way down to their bedroom and led her inside. On the nightstand their used box of Italian condoms sat, with one already sitting outside of the box on the corner of the table. He grabbed it. "I have been waiting for this."

Adrian grabbed the condom from his fingers and pushed her boyfriend down on the bed, straddling him. She carefully began to unbutton his shirt and peel it off of his body, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

Ben held his breath as Adrian then pulled her own shirt off, revealing a leopard print bra. He closed his eyes as her hair fell across his face when she leaned down to kiss his skinny chest. Several minutes later, when their clothes scattered the room and their bodies had merged into a swirling blur of color like the sky outside, he found himself lying on his back in the middle of the bed, head pressed into a pillow, and Adrian's heady eyes grilling into him. They were both breathless, but he managed to make out two words: "Welcome home."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

8:55 A.M. The night prior was still vivid in her mind, but ever since she'd left the warm bed that she could officially say she shared with Ben, their first night in new home was feeling more and more like a dream that she had desperately tried to not wake up from. It seemed too soon to be thrust into life already, but here she was, standing in the restroom at the mall, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Tangerine, banana, and lime made up the colors of the fat stripes of her knee length dress. Two large green and yellow ornamental buttons were positioned below the swoop neck collar and two fist sized yellow hoop earrings poked out from her long onyx sheets of hair. Sitting atop her head like a hideous Christmas angel was an Irish beret with the same striping as her dress. Adrian shuddered at the sight, hoping beyond hope that nobody she knew would drop in at the food court today. Or ever.

Adrian checked her cell phone again. Three minutes left. She wanted to make a good impression for her first day, so she planned to walk in a couple minutes early. It was now or never. She looked down at her shoes. Not the high heels she was accustom to, but a pair of sunshine colored trainers with thick white soles. It felt so strange to be walking in flat shoes, but she pushed that to the back of her mind and walked out of the restroom, hurrying her pace to the food court.

As soon as she approached she could smell the scents of breakfast: fat cinnamon rolls from the Cinnabon, pancakes and sausage from the McDonald's, blueberry lemon loafs fresh out of the oven at the Jamba Juice. She, however, was not headed in the direction of any of those tantalizing numbers, she was headed for The Scoop. Essentially, it was an Internet café, but instead of coffee, they served ice cream, and for their guests who were not so technically inclined, they offered daily stacks of newspapers and a menagerie of weekly or monthly magazine subscriptions for free perusal with purchase: _The scoop with a scoop!_

The Scoop was pulsating when she arrived, but at that moment, nobody was in line, nor was anyone behind the counter, so she wove her way through the sea of bodies and cones to the door marked _Employees Only_ and pushed her way inside. Adrian followed a whirring noise that became increasingly louder to an opened freezer and discovered the sound belonged to the freezer's double fans. Looking around she noticed the store's vast supply of extra ice cream tubs and other frozen goods, and, at the far end, a figure that was bent over, attempting to pull a tub of ice cream off the bottom shelf. Immediately she knew it wasn't her boss, unless Stanley wore the women's uniforms for the sole purpose of showing off his excellent set of legs. She cleared her throat. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Stanley?"

The woman stopped, grunted something that Adrian couldn't make out over the roar of the fans, and pulled herself up using the shelving. "Sorry, I didn't catch that," she said, turning around. "What did you–" Her voice died beneath the sound of the fans as soon as she locked eyes with Latina.

Staring at the women dressed identically to her, all Adrian could sputter was: _"Amy?"_


	22. Loose Grips

**A/N: **I hear one of my loyal readers, Heart of the Wind, isn't feeling well this week, so I worked extra hard to get this done as a get well gift! *hugs* And in other news, I photoshopped an image cover for _Turning Tables: Season Two_ if anyone wants to go take a peek at it. It was originally an image of Adrian, Mercy, and Grace on Adrian's bed, but it was too large, so I had to crop it down to only include Adrian and Mercy. (I saved the original though, I'll probably put it online later.) Also, how do we like the new "Adrian and Mercy" image cover for this story? I'm actually pleasantly surprised with the way it turned out. (So much so that I even got on a photoshop kick and made an image cover for the yet-to-be-released _Turning Tables: Season Four_ too. I've decided that the image cover for each season will be a photo of Adrian and Mercy. So the image cover for TT:S1 is Adrian pregnant with Mercy, TT:S2 is Adrian holding Mercy bundled up as a newborn, TT:S3 is Adrian holding Mercy as a one-year-old, and TT:S4 will feature a picture of Adrian and two-year-old Mercy. And the picture I have for her at that age is just adorable! Just you wait.)

_**Turning Tables**_

**Loose Grips**

"_You're working here?" Adrian blurted out._

"_Don't tell Ben! Or – or anyone! Please. Please!" Amy begged, running to the Latina's end of the freezer to make sure she heard her over the fans._

"_I–"Adrian noticed the goose bumps texturing Amy's bare arms and legs. She instinctively rubbed her own arms, becoming aware of the goose flesh that was beginning to crop up on her as well. "I don't care," she said finally. "I just need to find Stanley." She looked at her cell phone and realized it was already a minute past nine._

"_He left for a smoke break about five minutes ago. He's usually gone for at least ten."_

"_Nice guy," Adrian scoffed. "He knew it was my first day; that I was set to come in at nine."_

"_What can you expect from a twenty-year-old that's still in high school?"_

_Adrian blinked. "Seriously?"_

_Amy began to laugh and then abruptly stopped herself. "Uh, you can wait for him over by the sinks if you want." She pointed in the general direction from which Adrian had come. "I have to finish pulling out this tub of Bedazzle Berry and get back out to the front."_

_Adrian glanced across the freezer and temporarily debated with herself before asking, "Do you need any help?"_

_Amy looked back at where she'd been struggling to get the tub out. "Ye – you know, it's fine. I got it, but, erm, thanks for the offer."_

"_Sure." Adrian eased herself away from the frigid air of the freezer and followed the path she'd come to find it, turned, and found the wash, rinse, and sanitizing sinks Amy had mentioned. There was also an emergency exit door which was propped open with rock, and presumably on the other side of it, was Stanley. Adrian wavered on the balls of her feet, wondering whether to continue waiting or to just march right outside and get his attention. After a beat, she shoved out the door._

"Earth to my girlfriend!"

A hand on her shoulder startled Adrian from her blank gaze into the abyss of her coffee. She jerked and the mug tipped, spilling the dark brew all over the white table cloth. Adrian shoved her chair back in a panic and reached for the dish cloth in the sink while her boyfriend threw a wad of napkins onto the problem. She attempted to catch the spill before it rolled over the edge of the table, but to no avail. Frustrated, she bent down and began to blot up the mess with the cloth.

"Has work really been that hard on you after only two days?" Ben asked.

Adrian ignored the comment and spoke in irritation, "You shouldn't have wasted all those napkins. Now we have twice the mess." She picked up half the sopping wad and threw it into the trash.

"Wow," he said. "You woke up the wrong side of our bed."

Adrian continued to wipe up the spill without acknowledging him.

"What's the matter?" Ben finally asked, blocking her when she moved to the sink to rinse and wring out the dish cloth.

"Nothing."

"Something." Ben placed his hands on either side of the sink ledge, locking Adrian in place. "What?"

Adrian deflated. "I'm just tired." It was only half the truth, but she could tell he seemed to accept that.

"Is that why you weren't in the mood last night?" He pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry. I guess I forgot how rough starting a new job can be. Must be even worse at a place you didn't grow up around."

"Yeah," Adrian agreed distantly.

Ben traced her jawline. "I was thinking maybe Mercy and I could drop you off this morning?" he offered with a grin. "I bet she'd love an ice cream scoop from her favorite _mamá_."

"No!" she protested a little too quickly. At Ben's confused – and slightly hurt – baby face, she explained, "It's only my third day and I'm still in training. It's not that I wouldn't love for the two of you to drop in, but…not yet. I don't want anyone to think I'm slacking off by having my family come in to chitchat."

Ben pecked her on the lips. "I guess you're right, I hadn't thought about that." He took the dish cloth from her hands and returned to the table to mop up the remainder of the spill. "I'll take care of this, you go get ready."

Adrian rubbed her temple, feeling a headache creeping on. "Thanks."

"No problem."

She took a long look at her boyfriend's bum as he bent over to clean up the spill and smiled to herself a moment, before she started thinking back to her first day at work. The headache promptly reminded her that it was still there, so she left the kitchen to go find some Advil.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Grace rolled over and lay spread eagle under the covers on the center of an air mattress.  
"I forgot how good sleeping in feels."

From her bed, Heather groaned and pulled the covers over her head. "You call nine-thirty sleeping in?"

"What do you call it?"

"Noon."

"You sleep 'til noon? Summer session starts even later in the morning than the regular year, how do you even function September through May?"

"I dine on the blood of my enemies. Although right now I'm thinking of dining on juicy hunks of French Toast made with sourdough slices."

"That does sound really good," Grace agreed. "Especially topped with some black olives. Or Cheese Whiz."

Heather peeked one eye out from under her covers. "Say what?"

"You don't think so?"

Heather wormed out of her covers. "Come on, Hormones. Let's see what the refrigerator has to say about your particular brand of crazy."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I must be losing it, because I thought I just heard you say that you met someone."

"Did you think you were so special that I'd never like anyone else?" Ashley asked.

Ricky gave her his trademark smirk. "I _am_ pretty special."

"You're tooting your own horn now?" Ashley sassed. "No, wait, that's my sister's job."

"No offense, but I'd rather not have your sister anywhere near my horn, thank you."

Ashley snickered. "I'm sure the feeling's mutual."

"So about this guy…"

"Who said anything about a guy?"

Ricky raised his eyebrow. "Gal?"

"Guy," Ashley said. "But it was an appropriate situation to call you out on your heteronormativity."

"Thanks. So, guy?"

"Toby."

"Hmmm," Ricky pondered. "I don't like him."

"Jealous?"

"Just a primal hatred for the idea that one of my two best friends might not be hanging out with me as much in the future."

"Don't worry, he's home schooled, so you'll still get to see me five days a week at school come Monday."

"How'd you meet a home schooled pipsqueak?"

"Staples. I needed ink and he needed paper. It was a match made in aisle three."

"How old is he?"

"You'd think I'd go for an older guy?"

"You went for me."

Ashley shrugged. "I didn't ask. But he's got this big nose and wears these stupid hoodies."

"So you've seen him more than once?"

"A couple times. He took me out for Italian cream sodas."

"When did you have time for all this? I just talked to you Sunday and you said you had a headache."

"Yeah, after I went to Staples. I had a coupon that was going to expire."

"You were lying?"

"No, I did have the headache, I just didn't want to tell you about Toby until we could meet up in person. In the meantime–"

"You went on a date."

"If you can call Italian sodas a date. They weren't even made very well and we both had stomachaches an hour later."

"Sounds like a sign."

"Heather didn't think so."

"You told Heather before you told me?"

"Girl Code."

"I'm pretty sure that's not part of the Girl Code."

"How would you know, Boy?"

Ricky laughed. "So when do we get to meet this Toby?"

"'We'? No. I might let Heather meet him, but not you."

"Why? What's wrong with me? Afraid I might scare him off?"

"I'd scare you off first. No, I just don't want you to remember your feelings for me and become insanely jealous. I'm so done with love triangles."

Ricky wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulders and pulled her against his chest. "I hope it works out, Ash. I sincerely mean that."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian looked at the clock. Stanley had been scheduled to come in at the time that Denali was supposed to get off. The latter was a young college student in her early twenties and she'd said that she couldn't hang around until Stanley arrived because she had a biology class she had to leave for. Now, ten minutes later, it was just her and Amy.

"Stanley just called," Amy said, trotting into the back room with the cordless business phone in her hand. "He claims he got a flat and he's waiting on roadside assistance."

"I'm more likely to believe a bag of rotting potatoes."

"I know." Amy slammed the phone down on a metal rack. "I don't know how he became manager, he cuts corners and slacks off all the time."

"That's probably why they hire teenagers and young college students, because nobody else would put up with this crap."

"It's probably why it was so easy to get the job in the first place."

Adrian lifted her eyebrows. "Why _are _you working here? I know why I am, but why are you?"

"I – I –" Amy fumbled for a response, but was literally saved by the bell when the service bell chimed from the other room. "Customers," she said thankfully. "I th-think we might be getting l-low on Bubble-g-g-um," she stuttered. "Could you check and see if we h-h-ave anymore in the freezer while I take care of this?"

Adrian folded her arms. They _had_ been getting low on Bubblegum, but Denali had changed out the tubs a few minutes after Adrian had walked in for her shift and she was sure Amy had been aware of that. Annoyed, she waited a few minutes and then walked out behind the counter where Amy was ringing up a couple scoop in a waffle cone. She watched carefully as the younger girl maneuvered the touch screen cash register and wondered just how long Amy had been working at The Scoop. After two days, she'd barely had any register training, though Amy seemed to be navigating it smoothly enough. "Guess we didn't need the Bubblegum after all," she said, motioning to the new tub in the display as soon as Amy was finished.

"Oh. Guess I d–didn't s-see."

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Although a double stack of sourdough French Toast with a melting chunk of butter, a waterfall of maple syrup, and a dusting of powdered sugar sat in front of her, Heather was too interested in her friend scarfing down the same French Toast – but with black olives and Cheese Whiz in place of butter and syrup – to eat. "I can't decide whether to be amused or revolted."

"You should try it, it's really good," Grace said obliviously. "If I'd known how well you make French Toast I would've spent the night more often."

"Given the way you've mutated it, I'm not sure if that's exactly a compliment."

Grace grabbed the can of Cheese Whiz, gave it a shake, and squeezed more onto her French Toast like it was a can of extra creamy whipped topping. She then hoisted it onto her fork, stabbed on two black olives, and wedged the whole thing into her mouth.

"I craved cold water. I'm not even kidding, it needed to have glaciers floating in it to satisfy me. And those disgusting Hot Tamale chewy candies. I can't even look at them now without feeling nauseous."

"Adrian craved candy canes when she was pregnant," Grace recalled with a smile. "And strawberry-banana milkshakes from the Diary Shack, even though she hates their banana ones."

Heather held her French Toast down with her fork and sawed into the thick slices with her butter knife. "Do you know what you're having yet?"

"I have an appointment tomorrow."

"What are you hoping for?"

"A girl," Grace replied without missing a beat.

"For the dress up?" Heather asked cheekily.

"No." Grace suddenly stopped chewing, grabbed her napkin, and held it to her mouth. The muscles in her throat visibly contracted beneath her skin a few times before she wadded up her napkin and held in her hand.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Heather backtracked.

"It wasn't you."

"I was just asking so I know what to get for the baby shower."

"Baby shower?"

"Ooops?" Heather asked. "Maybe it was supposed to be a surprise? If you could act surprised for Adrian, that would be great."

"When did she say she was throwing one?"

"When we hung out last Friday."

"I always meant to throw Adrian a baby shower," Grace said guiltily. "But after she was put on bed rest for going into premature labor, she didn't want me to go through the trouble of putting one together; she kept saying she didn't know anyone anyway." She got up to scrape off her plate over the garbage and rinse it off in the sink. "I did all this research online for great shower ideas and all it ended up being was this little pot luck get together – if you can even call it that – with her mom and mine."

"It's too bad I didn't know you gals back then. I'm very good at parties. Come to think of it, that might be the reason I ended up pregnant in the first place."

Grace returned to her seat and leaned forward curiously. "Are you joking or did that really happen? I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay too, I'm just curious. You never bring up your daughter's fa – other biological donor."

Heather laughed loudly at the last comment, but it eventually hallowed out. She drank down a tall glass of milk until there was nothing left and then looked at Grace, but her gaze seemed to go right through her. "It really was at a party," she said, the typical sauciness gone from her demeanor.

"Was he older?"

"Nope. He didn't go to our school though. I met him at a basketball game in February of o-nine. He was one of the Blue Wavers," she said, referring to the school's mascot, the Blue Wave. "What a stupid mascot right? I mean, it's a _wave_. A blue wave. You want to guess what his pickup line was?"

"'You want to ride a Wave'?" Grace asked sarcastically.

Heather folded her arms.

"You're kidding."

"It sounds terrible, but to hear him say it…" She shook her head. "Anyway, he asked for my number and I gave it to him, but I never really expected to hear from him after that. And I didn't, not until summer when he calls me up out of the blue – pun not intended – and asks me to this party. Not _the_ party, a pool party. It's not like I had anything else going on that summer, so I agreed, why not, right? That was kind of our thing: just partying. Some of his friends had some older siblings and if they weren't throwing parties themselves, they knew where to find them, so Anil always knew the place to be."

"Sounds like he'll have a successful college career."

"And if he finds any girls half as stupid as I was, he'll be a biological donor three times over before he graduates."

"Was he your, uhm–"

"I didn't lose my V-Card to him if that's what you're asking. Thank God, if He exists. No offense. He was the second. Second guy I had sex with, not the second time I ever had sex. So I wasn't inexperienced per se, but I was far from sex smart. He convinced me that the high temperatures and chemicals in a hot tub would kill sperm, so we didn't need to use a condom. It sounded reasonable at the time. I guess when you're fifteen and hardcore crushing, most things are going to sound reasonable."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Hey, do you have plans for Sunday?" Ricky asked as he walked Ashley up to her front door.

"Not that I know of, why?" She rummaged around in her purse for her house keys.

"My parents are having an end of summer barbeque thing."

"The Solstice isn't until the twenty-third of September."

"How are you always such a monotone wealth of useless facts?"

"Insulting me is a good way to get me to come to that not-so-end-of-summer barbeque."

"Can you come or not?"

"I'll have to see if I can pencil you in."

"Good, I'll have a place set for you." Ricky leaned in to hug her.

"What was that for?" Ashley grinned.

"Nothing. Everything. I'm just lucky that we're friends, that's all."

"You are lucky." Ashley elbowed him playfully. "So am I."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Do you do that when you're lying?"

"W-what?"

"The stuttering, like you just did as you were pretending not to know what I was talking about."

Amy sighed. "Nobody's ever noticed before. Except Ashley."

"She's perceptive."

"I know." Amy set down the price gun that she'd been using for inventory. "You asked me this morning why I'm working here."

"Yeah?"

"That's it: it's Ashley. We're not the best siblings – we don't even get along half the time – but she's still my baby sister. It's no secret my mom's been struggling since the divorce."

Adrian put her head down, recalling how the divorce was a direct result of George's affair with her mother.

"Ricky cornered me in the band room on the last day of school and told me Ashley had barely been bringing anything for lunch, if she did at all. There hasn't been a lot in our cupboards, okay? I grab whatever just so I won't starve at lunch. But Ashley being Ashley –"

"Didn't want to waste lunch on herself?"

"Yeah," the brunette sighed. "That's my sister, forever suffering in silence. I knew I couldn't let that continue to happen, so I started submitting applications until I got hired here."

"And that's why you stopped speaking to Ben?"

"I've received all his calls, his texts, and Ashley's told me he's come by. But I don't know what to say. Do _you_ want anyone to know you wear this all day?" she said, flicking her wrists up and down the length of her uniform.

"Not if I can help it."

"Exactly. I wouldn't even be here if things were different. The job only pays minimum wage, but–"

"It's _something_."

"Yeah."

"Who else knows?"

"Only my mom, because I'm underage and I had to get her permission." Amy rested her head against the shelf they were standing in front of. "Are you going to tell Ben?"

After a long moment of thought, Adrian replied. "No. It's not my secret to tell. But I can't keep him from finding out. He _is_ my boyfriend and we share a lot of the same acquaintances, so if one of them drops in to see me, I can't guarantee the cat won't be out of the bag."

"I – thank you."

Adrian shook her head. "Thank me by showing me how to finish this boring as hell inventory. I just want to get it out of my hair. I don't know how Stanley trains anyone, he's a terrible teacher."

"He doesn't. We just train each other behind his back." Amy picked up the price gun and handed it to the Latina. "I guess we start here."


	23. Round III

**A/N: **To my anonymous reviewer, Elena, the pics aren't on my profile, they are on the upper left hand corners of the stories. So look at the top left of the screen where it has the title of the story, the author, and the rating. So for example, for this story, look just to the side of the aforementioned information and you'll see a photo of Francia and a baby, who is wearing a purple sweat jacket and purple and blue hat. In real life, that's a photo of Francia Raisa and her godson, Hudson Evangelista (Allen's son), but I edited and colorized the photo to make the baby's clothing a little more girlish (they weren't originally purple) and for the purposes of this fic, it's meant to represent Adrian and Mercy. Likewise, if you go look up _Turning Tables: Season Two_ you'll find another picture in the same place (if you click on the picture it'll bring up a bigger image, at 180 x 209 instead of a thumbnail) and that is also a picture of Francia and Hudson, when he was a newborn, but I've edited the picture onto a screencap of Adrian's bedroom, so it appears as though it's Adrian sitting on her bed, holding a newborn Mercy. Note that if you're using FFN Mobile, you won't be able to see the pictures because they take them away to make the pages easier to load on the mobile version of the site. I hope that helps!

_**Turning Tables**_

**Round III**

"It's a boy."

Dr. Fields looked surprise. "Really?"

"I opened the envelope last night," Grace explained, referring to the envelope she'd gotten from her OB/GYN that contained the sex of her unborn child. "I've looked at it every day for two months and this morning I opened it."

"Is that why you called me for an emergency session?"

"Yeah." Grace retrieved the envelope from her purse and struggled to lean over her nearly eighth month pregnant stomach to push it across the table. "Consciously, I know it shouldn't matter, but it does: I don't want to have a boy."

"Why not?"

Grace wiped her runny eyes with the back of her hand. "What if it's predisposed or something?"

"There's no rape gene, Grace. It's not something you can inherit."

"I know, I know, but…what if I can't love him because he reminds me of Grant? What if a boy looks more like Grant than a girl does? And what if my lack of love causes him to go become like Grant?"

"I don't think you have to worry about loving your son. You've already come this far, haven't you?"

"I once thought I loved Grant too, but that didn't last."

"To be honest with you, Grace, not all women who become pregnant from rape do love their children, even if they carry them to term; even if they keep those children."

"Do you think I'm one of those women?"

"It's only an opinion based on what I've seen and heard from you in the months that you've been coming to me, but no, I don't."

"Then why do I feel like I've failed him and he's not even born yet?"

"Because…" he said, picking up the envelope and emptying out a letter and an ultrasound photo. He held up the latter. "You love him."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Mom said to bring you your book."

"You had this?!"

"Yeah I had it. You left it on the table, I was reading it. I didn't know you needed it."

"You had my book and you didn't tell me?"

"Aw, you sound upset, did the magic spell wear off?"

"I needed this book to do my homework! I didn't do my homework because I didn't have the book!"

"Ugh…you worry about all the wrong things, you know that?"

"You have no idea what I worry about. If you did I'd like to think you wouldn't be so quick be such a bi–"

"Whoa, hey! What's going on?" Ricky asked, sliding in between the angry sisters. "Everyone can hear the two of you all the way down the hall."

"It doesn't matter," Ashley sneered. "Enjoy your book!"

Ricky kept pace with his friend as she stomped towards the bathroom, catching her by the shoulder before she could escape inside. "Seriously, Ash, what was that about?"

"Amy and I just had a fight this morning, nothing unusual."

"About what?"

"Amy's taking her Jimmy frustrations out on Toby and I."

"What do you mean?"

"She overhead Toby talking about doing something special tomorrow and asked about it. I told her it would be two months since I officially told Toby I'd be his girlfriend, then she went crazy!"

"Crazy how?"

Ashley scowled. "I think she's just jealous and don't think I'm saying that to be petty, I really do think she's jealous: she and Jimmy never got to spend their one year anniversary together because we didn't go back up to Palm Springs this summer and Jimmy's dad didn't have time to take him down here, but Amy was going on last month about how he was coming up for Halloween weekend and they were going to make up for it."

"Let me guess: they got into a fight?"

"I guess, because the next thing I know, he's not coming and Amy's taking it out on everyone! And I'm tired of it. Just because she and Jimmy got into a fight doesn't mean she has a right to take it out on Toby and I."

"All right, all right," Ricky agreed, raising his hands. "That's true. But…did you really have to take her book?"

"I didn't _take_ her book."

"Ash."

"She_ left_ it on the table! I merely picked it up and started reading it."

Ricky gave the sophomore a knowing look.

"Fine! So my motives in reading it may not have been out of interest, but still, she had it coming."

"And you thought I had sibling trouble." Ricky looped his arm around his friend's shoulders. "Be that as it may, you could still be the bigger woman here. Besides, we both know how difficult it is to be in a fight with someone you have feelings for."

"I always knew having a crush on you would come back to bite me on the ass."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"November fourteenth," Adrian said, laying a Spring green baby shower invitation with a teddy bear on the front into Alice's hand. "Can you make it?"

"What day of the week is that?" Alice asked, opening her phone to check her digital calendar.

"Second Sunday of November. I have Sundays off and I thought it would be best to have it on the weekend. It'll be at my place."

"I think that'll be fine," the Asian teen agreed. "Who else is coming?"

"Heather and Grace's mom for sure and my mom if she can get the time off. I'm also sending an invitation to Margaret."

"Margaret?"

"Ricky's mom."

Alice nodded. "Right."

"And I think Kathleen's handing some invitations out to some friends at their church, so possibly more than that. Plus Mercy," she laughed, "but I'm kicking Ben out of the condo for the afternoon."

Alice smirked. "Count me in. Grace has been a really good friend to Ben and a great presence in Mercy's life. I don't know her that well, but helping her out is definitely worth an afternoon."

"I thought you might feel that way," Adrian nodded. "Thanks." She left as Henry approached and greeted Alice with a kiss. She made her way over to her boyfriend, who was bent over the water fountain getting a drink. She threw her arms around his waist, startling him and causing him to get water in his eye.

"Adrian!"

"Poor baby," she mocked, wiping the driblets from his skin and lashes.

Ben kissed her forehead. "Why do I put up with you?"

"I can remind you tonight after Mercy's in bed…" Adrian smacked him on the bum just to watch his embarrassed reaction in public. "Alice is in, by the way."

"I figured she would be."

"You know who else I was thinking of inviting?"

"Who?"

"Camille."

Ben's face soured at the sound. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I know you and your dad are still barely speaking to each other and I also know that Camille's never been my biggest fan, especially not after we moved in together, but I also know that they both held Grace in high regard for being such a good friend to you throughout the pregnancy. If she can't put aside her feelings for Grace, well, screw her."

Ben blew out a long breath, blowing strands of Adrian's hair around in the process. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. "I guess you're right. And since it's girls only, I won't have to see her or my dad, so it's really no skin off my nose."

Adrian made a snapping motion with her teeth at the tip of Ben's nose. "At least not from them."

"Stop it!" Ben grinned. "You can't turn me on now, I have to be in class in fifteen minutes."

"Oh, I definitely could, but even I'm not that evil," Adrian winked. She reached around to pinch his rear. "Have fun in class, Benny. I'll see you tonight."

Ben groaned as he watched his girlfriend sashay up the stairs.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"…now I'll leave it up to a vote: raise your hand if you'd like me to assign partners."

Grace looked over her shoulder to see about six out of twenty-four hands go up.

"And those of you who would like to choose your own partners?"

As expected, a sea of hands flew into the air, but Grace's was not one of them. She sighed and waited for her peers to branch off into pairs, hoping someone would ask her if she'd like to work with them, because she had no desire to make the effort herself. Had it been freshman or even most of sophomore year, she would've jumped at the chance to choose her own partner.

"Where's the 'work alone' option?"

"Alice," Grace said, surprised when the Asian girl sat down beside her.

"You didn't have another partner in mind, did you?" Alice asked.

Grace quickly shook her head. "No, I'd be happy to work with you."

"Great! I don't socialize with anyone else in the class anyway. Unfortunately, neither Ben nor Hank would be caught dead taking a high school psychology class."

"I know what you mean," Grace chuckled. "'Psych class,' it sounds terrifying."

"It comes second nature to me, I can thank my parents for that. What about you?"

"I thought it might be a good compliment to a future in medicine. That is, if I didn't screw up my chances by going to summer school instead of the Young Healers Camp over the summer."

Alice cast her eyes onto the handout for their partner assignment. "Right. Well, any ideas for our project topic?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"We have three out of four classes together and somehow you have still managed to avoid me for the first two months of school. Color me impressed," Ben said as he slid into an empty seat beside Amy.

"Yeah, sorry about that, I've just been busy."

"Oh? Busy doing what?"

Amy shrugged. "It's kind of personal."

"I thought we were friends."

"We were. Are." Amy fumbled with her pencil. "You know what I mean."

"I don't think I do. Amy, is something going on at home?"

"Ben," Amy said, gritting her teeth as their American Literature teacher came into the room, "class is about to start. We really need to pay attention."

"I have been, but you're making it really hard to understand what's going on. It'd really help if you could give me some clue as to what I did that's got you so angry at me."

"It's not you, it's me."

"That's original."

"I don't want to go there with you, Ben. Just leave it. Please, just leave it."

Ben pressed his pencil down against his lined paper so hard that the lead snapped. He side eyed Amy, who had strategically sat all the way across the room from him, always choosing a spot in between two other people, in each of the three classes they shared this year. This had literally been the first time he'd been able to get a seat next to her. Between her leaving early and being elusive at lunch, he hadn't had a chance to confront her about why she'd been ignoring him since summer, and now that he had, it hadn't helped at all, and felt more frustrated about the situation than ever.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"…I thought about going as Pippi Longstocking, but I don't do pigtails. Now I've narrowed it down to either Jessica Rabbit or Poison Ivy, but I think I'm leaning towards Jessica Rabbit. Input?" Heather explained, looking across the lunch table at her two best friends.

"Didn't Madison go as Poison Ivy last year?"

"Good point," Heather nodded. "Jessica it is!"

"Won't you have to get extensions for that?" Ashley asked.

"Better than a wig. I hate wigs. Of course, I wouldn't need a wig or extensions if you two hadn't nixed my idea of the three of us going as Columbia, Magenta, and Frank-N-Furter. Come on! You two would make a fantastic Maggie n' Frank!"

"I am _not_ doing drag," Ricky said.

"Well you're not cuddly enough to pull off Rocky and you're too hot to be a convincing Riff Raff."

"After seeing the way my dad reacted to Amy's 'love bug' costume last year, I seriously doubt I'd be able to get away with a Magenta costume."

"What happened to the rebels I fell in love with?" Heather sighed overdramatically. "Where are we going, anyway, since Mr. Boykewich isn't throwing his Halloween Ball this year?"

"I don't typically go out for Halloween, so it's up to you two."

Ashley shrugged. "I'm not really a partier either."

"We could throw are own. D'ya think the 'rents would be down with that?" Heather asked, looking to Ricky.

"It's a little late to pass out invites."

"So what? It'll just be the three of us. And your parents. We'll pass out candy, watch Zombo, _Tales from the Crypt_, the works! Ash, you can even invite Lover Boy!"

"Not likely."

"Why not?" the redhead mock pouted.

"Heather and I promise not to get in the way of you making out between handfuls of caramel corn." A moment later he let out a loud _oougfh _as Ashley's foot connected with his leg under the table.

"I might be willing to rescind my policy on the Magenta costume, but only if you don't rag on me about inviting Toby."

Heather offered her hand. "Deal!" She looked excitedly at Ricky. "One down, one to go!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Two hours into her after school shift, Adrian hurried into the bathroom and slammed the stall shut behind her. She covered the toilet seat in two layers of seat covers and began to rifle through her purse, only to realize what she was looking for wasn't there. She doubled checked, refusing to believe that she'd been incompetent enough not to restock her purse, but sure enough, there was nothing. A stream of obscenities fled her mouth and echoed back at her in the silence of the bathroom.

"Adrian?"

The Latina went rigid at the sound of Amy's voice. She was sure the bathroom had been empty when she walked in, but when she crouched down a little to look under the stall doors, she noticed a pair of yellow trainers next door in the handicapped stall. This time she cursed under her breath. "I didn't know you were in here."

"Are you okay?"

"Is there anyone else in here?"

"Just us."

Adrian shut her eyes and leaned against one of the stall walls. "I'm just, uh…out."

"Out?"

"Of…tampons."

"Oh."

Adrian imagined the younger girl probably looked as uncomfortable as she felt. Then she heard a rustling sound, like papers and maybe clinking tubes of lip gloss.

"Erm, I don't have any tampons," Amy said nervously, "but, uh, I do have a spare pad."

Adrian shook her head, wondering if she was having some kind of psychotic episode. "Are you sure?" she said after a long pause.

"I don't need it," Amy assured.

A pale hand stretched underneath the stall, holding a fat square covered in light orange plastic. Adrian looked away and grabbed the square. "Thanks!" she said quickly. Several minutes later she emerged from the stall and made her way to the sinks, where Amy was washing her hands. Adrian proceeded to do the same. She tried to looking at the younger girl directly, but stole glances at her through her reflection in the mirror. Despite Amy's attempts to hide the situation, Adrian noted her puffy eyes and matted eyelashes. "Are you okay?"

Amy shook her hands off and yanked down three or four paper towels. "Just having a bad day."

"Been there." Adrian shrugged and grabbed some paper towels after Amy moved away. "At least you're not pregnant."

Amy nodded. "I guess."

Adrian lifted a surprised eyebrow at that. "You _want _to be pregnant?"

Amy emphatically shook her head. "I didn't mean that," she said quickly. "I just – I don't know what I meant."

"This is about a guy," Adrian surmised.

Amy wadded up her paper towels and chucked them into the nearly full trashcan. "Yeah."

Adrian mentally dithered about whether or not she dared get involved with Amy's romantic rows, but against her better judgment she decided to ask: "Break up?"

Amy was reached for the door when the question was posed and stopped mid-stretch. "No." She hung her head. "Not yet."

"I thought you were having some romantic weekend this weekend?" At Amy's surprise Adrian hastily reminded her, "Gossip travels fast."

"He was coming down for the weekend," Amy agreed. "'Was' being the key word."

"Did you have a fight?"

"Yeah, caused by my own stupidity."

"Guys are pretty stupid too. How do you know it wasn't his fault?"

"Because he wasn't the one who sent the–" Amy stopped herself mid-sentence. "It doesn't really matter now. I was trying to be smart but instead I was an idiot and now I've ruined everything." She shook her head. "Anyway, uh, how's, uhm, how's the baby shower going?" Her face flushed a bit. "I heard you talking about it during your break."

"Oh. Uh, fine. Great! I think Grace will really like it."

Amy nodded slowly, as if waiting for more, but it didn't come. "Well, that's good. I hope she gets some wonderful things for her and the baby."

Adrian scuffed the toe of her trainer against the waxed floor until it squeaked. "You aren't interested in coming, right? I just thought, with the situation with George, I didn't think you or Ashley would be interested."

Amy shrugged. "I can't speak for Ashley, but my issues are with my dad, not Grace. She's actually been a pretty decent person, the little that we've known each other."

"I didn't realize."

A loud banging sounded from the other side of the bathroom door and Stanley poked his head in. "Amy! Adrian! We've got a line forming, are you in here?"

Adrian rolled her eyes. "We'll be right out!" she hollered back, startling the twenty-year-old from behind the door.

"I guess we better get back out there then," Amy said, pulling the door open.

"Amy!"

"Yeah?"

"November fourteenth. I'll bring an invite for you tomorrow, if you're interested."

Amy smiled ever so discreetly. "I'm interested."

Adrian stood there as the door shut. "Okay," she said. "What did I just do?"


	24. It's Not Over 'Til It's Overdue

**A/N: **I wasn't quite able to meet my before-the-semester-starts deadline, but there's only three chapters left of this season. Most of this chapter was unbelievably fun to write, so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

_**Turning Tables**_

**It's Not Over 'Til It's Overdue**

Grace awoke to the sound of early birds singing outside the guest house. Her body felt like a brick comfortably wedged into her mattress and she found she had no desire whatsoever to get up. She laid there for quite some time, watching the sun rays chase the shadows around the walls until they finally made their way over to a thumbtacked calendar. The month of November had a picture of a cornucopia on a wooden table against a backdrop of gold-red autumn leaves and a lush orange pumpkin. The first through the thirteenth were marked with dual streaks of black marker in the shape of an _X_. A star had been drawn on the fourteenth and near the bottom of the month, the twenty-ninth was circled.

The teenager was ready to close her eyes again and try to go back to sleep when a gentle knock sounded at the door. She contorted her face, knowing it was her mother's knock, but not relishing the idea of climbing out of her snuggly bed to go unlock the door. She waited a few minutes, wondering if her mom might go away, but heard another knock. Begrudgingly, she pushed back the covers and shuffled her stocking feet over to the door to unlock it.

"You are awake," Kathleen said in surprise.

"Unfortunately."

Kathleen kissed her daughter's forehead before walking in. "Big day today."

"Yeah," Grace agreed, shutting the door. "But not for another several hours, unless I've really overslept."

"You haven't overslept, I just wanted to bring you a little something." Kathleen pulled her arm out from behind her back and held a box out for Grace.

"An early shower gift?"

"It's not for the baby, it's for you."

Surprised, Grace carried the gift over to her bed and sat down to untie the ribbon. Inside she pulled apart the layers of white tissue paper to find a swathe of carnation pink fabric. She lifted the garment out of the bag and stood up to let it fall to its full length: a strapless georgette fabric, a line swing maternity dress with a wide satin ribbon just above the empire waist. "It's pretty," the teenager said, holding the gown up to herself in front of a full length mirror.

"I thought you could wear it with your pink sweater," Kathleen said.

The pink sweater she'd worn the first day of her freshman year flashed through her mind. "Yeah," she agreed. "It'll look nice. Thank you."

Kathleen looked skeptical. "You don't sound very enthused."

"Just tired," she said, yawning right after. Her stomach growled. "And hungry."

Kathleen laughed. "French toast with black olives and cheese whiz coming right up."

Grace brightened at that and rubbed her belly. "That sounds_ really_ yummy!"

"I thought it might." Kathleen gave her daughter a hug. "You can go back to bed if you'd like, I'll let you know when breakfast is ready."

"Thanks," she smiled sincerely. After her mother left she held the dress up to herself again, then swished it back and forth in front of herself, slowly smiling. It certainly seemed like her, she just wished that it wasn't a maternity dress, because that meant she only had a couple more weeks to wear it. Her thoughts reminded her of the calendar on her wall and she turned to look at it again. In spite of all her conflicting emotions, she _had_ been looking forward to the baby shower. Adrian had even come to her for ideas and that had allowed Grace to put all of her ideas for the baby shower that had never been thrown for Adrian to good use, which, for a few weeks time, had allowed her to focus on something other than the impending birth of her son. She hoped that once she got to the shower it might give her another few hours of mental reprieve to just enjoy herself and her friends.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

As soon as Alice walked through the front door of Adrian and Ben's condo she was ambushed by Grace. "Oh, ooo-kay," she said as her psych partner attached a blue clothes pin to the front of her shirt. "What are we doing?"

Adrian approached behind her friend, carrying Mercy on her hip. "We're indulging Grace in all the games she had planned for the shower that never got thrown for me." She nodded towards the clothes pin and explained, "The name of the game's Big No-No. The rules are simple: you can't say the word–" she tapped Mercy on the head and the child helpfully waved at Alice, revealing the word _baby_ written on her palm "–and if you do, and someone calls you out, you have to forfeit your pin to them. The person with the most clothes pins at the end of the shower gets a prize."

"What if there's a tie?"

"We have extra gifts in case of such an event," Adrian replied.

Grace threw her arms around Alice. "Thank you so much for coming!"

"Oh, uh, you're welcome," Alice laughed, shooting raised eyebrows at Adrian. As soon as she'd wriggled out of the blonde's embrace she held up a square box covered in shimmery blue paper and topped with large sky blue bow the size of a small bouquet. "Where do I put this?"

Adrian extended her arm. "Gift table!" she said, motioning to the coffee table which had been covered in a lacy white table cloth and already had eight gifts on it. "There are refreshments on the table too."

Grace looked at her watch. "The party doesn't officially start until one though."

"Does that mean I get to say the bad word for another–" she checked her cell phone "–fifteen minutes?"

"Nope. Once you've been pinned you're in the game. We're just waiting 'til one to start the other activities."

"Oh, Alice," Grace cried overenthusiastically. "I tried a new cookie recipe especially for the shower: white chocolate raspberry cookies!" She nudged the Asian girl towards the refreshments. "You have to tell me how you like them!"

Adrian rolled her eyes at her friend and then glanced at her daughter. "If you get much bigger you're going to break _Mamá_'ship." She set the one-and-a-half-year-old over onto the floor.

Mercy took a moment to adjust to her surroundings, then her onyx pigtails began to bounce around her head as she grabbed onto her mother's leg and used it as leverage to pull herself into a standing position. From there she let go and began to wobble a bit before taking several steps forward and then falling onto her padded bottom.

"She's growing like a weed," Margaret smiled as she came up to stand beside Adrian.

"I know," Adrian said wistfully. "It seems like just yesterday I was sitting in my room, holding her all bundled up from the hospital."

"And now she's walking."

"Or trying to. She can get about halfway across the room if she gathers enough speed, but it usually ends like that."

"Count your blessings," the older woman winked. "Once they've got the hang of it, there's no stopping them: they will be into _everything_. They're a handful," she nodded. "That's why Shakur and I stopped fostering toddlers, they were just too much."

"How is Shakur, by the way?"

"Oh, he's doing well. He's been putting in a little overtime at the office lately to help train his new assistant."

"That's nice," Adrian frowned. "I wish my boss put that much effort into my training."

"Difficult job?"

"Ugh," Adrian groaned. "You have no idea."

"I worked at a gas station my freshman year of college," Margaret said. "Talk about back breaking work. Customers never think about what the employees go through."

"Tell me about it! I must've cleaned up at least a thousand ice cream spills in the last two weeks alone and I don't just mean the scoop falling off the cone – although that has happened too – but the majority of them are just left to melt and harden on the tables. I know accidents happen, but have none of them heard of napkins? Thank goodness our computer monitors are inside a glass walled room and the keyboards have plastic covers, otherwise our equipment would constantly be on the blink. And don't get me started on the gum under the tabletops. Can they get anymore cliché? It's disgusting."

Margaret swirled her plastic cup of punch and melting sherbet. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said sympathetically. "But aside from the job, how are you? How's life with Ben?"

"Good," Adrian smiled, nodding unconsciously. "Really good…"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"…I don't know why everyone and their brother had to tell me I was making a mistake, just look at us! Three months together next week and everything's perfect! If anything, moving in together has only made things _better_."

"What are we doing here?" Henry asked, confused as Ben turned off his car in the Smith's parking lot.

"I need to pay the electric bill. Did you know you that some grocery stores let you do that at their service counters?"

Henry shook his head. "I can't imagine having my own bills every month." His brows suddenly knitted together. "I thought Adrian usually paid the bills?"

"What?" Ben shook his head. "No. Well, she pays a lot of them, but it's not like we don't share chores and Adrian's been busy with the baby shower the past few weeks."

"You have your electric bill due in the middle of the month?" Henry asked, following his friend through the double electric doors of the grocery store.

"No, it just ran over a little bit this month and we didn't realize. It was pretty steady for the first two months and I misplaced the bill this month so I just sent in the same amount as the last two months."

"Ran over?"

"Yeah, just a little," Ben repeated. "We're getting into the colder months, that's normal for the gas and electric to go up a little. No big deal."

Henry lingered at the corner of the counter as his friend paid the balance on his electric bill. "Are you going to tell Adrian?"

"Tell her what?"

"About the bill?"

"Why? I just paid it, it's been dealt with."

Henry shrugged. "No reason, I guess. I was just thinking it might be something she'd want to know about."

"It's just twenty bucks," Ben said. "It's nothing. I'll let her know next month, it'll probably be about the same."

"If you say so, man."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Sorry I'm late!"

"Amy!" Grace delighted. "I didn't realize you were coming!"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," the brunette smiled. She held up a shiny purple wrapped gift. "It's from Ashley and I, but Ashley wa – wasn't f-feeling well."

"Oh, I hope she's feeling better soon." Grace grabbed a blue pin from the bowl on the table and began to rattle off the rules of the Big No-No game as she clipped the clothes pin to Amy's dress.

Adrian came up behind the blonde and mouthed: 'You got the time off?'

'Barely,' Amy mouthed back over Grace's shoulder as the blonde leaned in to hug her.

"I had a little t-trouble finding the address," Amy said, blushing a bit. "I, uh, think I took t-t-wo wrong turn-s-s on my way here."

"That's not a problem," Grace said cheerfully. "But you will be a bit behind on My Water Broke."

Amy's eyes ballooned. "Your water just broke?"

Adrian covered her mouth, holding back a snort.

"No, no! That's the game: My Water Broke." She ushered Amy into the kitchen and opened the freezer, revealing an ice cube tray. Inside each cube was a tiny plastic baby. "We pop one of these into one of these," she said, grabbing a clear plastic cup, "and whoever's ice cube melts first – and notices it – has to call out, 'My water broke!'"

"And you get a prize."

"But!" Grace said, raising her finger as Amy dropped the ice cube into the disposable cup. "No cheating: you can't hold you cup, blow on your cup, set it on top of the heating vent, set it under a lamp, etc. It has to melt entirely on its own."

"Got it," Amy nodded. "Cute idea."

"I know!" Grace gushed. "I found it online when I was researching Adrian's b-a-b-y shower." She grabbed a blue Sharpie from the drawer and wrote Amy's name onto her cup, then set it on the end of a row that had been lined up on the kitchen counter. She then motioned towards the table. "I was just getting ready to pass out the sheets for B-a-b-y Trivia. Come join us when you're ready."

Adrian lingered by the refreshments as Grace waddled off to where everyone was gathering near the couch. "I thought Stanley wasn't going to give you the time off?"

"He wasn't, but Denali said she'd cover for me at the last minute; said she could use the extra money."

"Can't we all."

Amy nodded. "I agreed to work until twelve, but Stanley made me stay after and clean up dishes soaking in the sink." She rolled her eyes. "He's such an ass."

"It's good you could make it."

The younger girl dropped a couple of cookies and two lemon bars onto a disposable plate, filled a blue disposable cup with punch. "Ah," she said, seeing the melting glaciers of sherbet in the punch, "so that's why you bought all those containers of sherbet on Friday."

"Employee discount. What do you know, working there is good for something."

Amy took a sip of the punch and nodded. "Pineapple juice?"

"Along with orange juice and Sprite. That way the sherbet keeps it cold like ice cubes, but as it melts it adds flavor to the punch instead of watering it down."

"Grace's idea?"

"My mom's, actually. She used to make it for my birthday parties growing up."

"It's good." Amy started to walk towards the couch and realized she'd forgotten her gift. She turned back to get it, only for it to dawn on her that she already had both her hands full.

"Got it." Adrian picked up the gift and carried it into the living room where she set it down on the corner of the coffee table. There was hardly any room left on the surface and all the sitting spots had been taken, so she was left to stand beside Amy.

Kathleen handed both teenagers slips of paper and pencils. "Is everyone ready?"

There was a murmur of approval. "Okay, question number one: what's the most popular day of the week for births?" After the pencil scratching had stopped Grace continued, "Question number two: how long does it take a diaper to decompose? A. Fifteen years, B. one-hundred-twenty years, or C. five-hundred years?"

"Gotta be fifteen years," Heather muttered under her breath. "It can't possibly take a hundred."

"Question number three: a b-a-b-y is born around the world every blank. A. Three seconds, B. thirty seconds, or C. minute?"

"I remember this one from my old pregnancy books," Adrian smirked.

"Question number four: what's the state with the most births?"

"California," came several murmurs.

"Question number five: what color was representative of boys in the nineteen-hundreds?" Five questions later Grace took a look around the room. "Is everyone done?" After several nods she asked, "So did anyone have answers for all ten?" When nobody raised their hands she asked, "Nine?"

Alice's hand shot up.

Heather smirked. "That's not surprising. Why did the rest of us even play?"

"We still have to make sure she's right before we can call it. What are your answers, Alice?"

Alice stood up and proudly flashed her list. "Tuesday is the most popular day of the week for births, it takes a diaper five centuries to decompose–"

"No way!" Heather shouted.

"Is that true?" Cindy asked skeptically.

"She's actually right," Grace nodded.

"Every three seconds a baby is born," Alice continued.

"You said 'baby!'" Heather cried.

"So did you," Margaret said, looking at the redhead.

"Ah, crap," Heather groaned, removing her pin to hand to Margaret. "At least it wasn't a complete loss," she said as she accepted Alice's pin and attached it to the spot her pin had vacated.

"Where did we leave off?" Alice asked, turning her attention back to the guest of honor.

"Question four."

"California," Alice nodded. "But everyone seemed pretty unanimous about that one. And pink, it was originally considered a strong, 'masculine' color. Alternatively, blue was considered feminine and 'delicate,' so it was a girl's color."

"I didn't know that, when did they switch them?" Kathleen asked.

"The nineteen-forties." Alice checked her sheet again. "For number six: ba – uh – b-a-b-i-e-s are born without kneecaps. Seven: only three to four percent of b-a-b-i-e-s actually arrive on their due date. Eight: the heaviest b-a-b-y ever born was twenty-three pounds and twelve ounces –"

"_Agh!"_ Kathleen shuddered.

"I didn't get nine–"

"Oh, oh!" Heather shouted. "That was the _Three Men and a Baby_ question! I loved that movie!"

Margaret loudly cleared her throat.

Heather noticed everyone staring at her. "What?"

Margaret held open her palm. "Your pin."

"But I didn't say–" She realized the name of the movie. "Damn." The redhead dejectedly handed Alice's former pin to Margaret and said, "Peter Mitchell, Michael Kellam, and Jack Holden were the names of the three main characters."

"I'm not a big movie goer," Alice said.

"Incidentally, Heather's right," Grace nodded.

"Lost a pin for it though. You already got mine last time, you'd think you could cut me a little slack."

"It's a hard knocks life," Margaret said as she pinned her third clothes pin to her shirt.

"And lastly, the greatest number of children was born to a woman in Russia in the seventeen-hundreds. She had sixteen sets of twins, seven sets of triplets, and four sets of quadruplets for a grand total of sixty-nine!"

"Ironically, if they had been doing sixty-nine, they might not have had so many children," Heather smirked.

A couple of laughs broke out in response, mingled with a few people – mostly Kathleen and Grace's church friends – choking on their drinks, all the while Grace's face turned a bright pink.

"Well it looks like you're the clear Trivia Mistress," Grace said, attempting to steer the conversation back to Alice. "So you can choose a prize bag from the corner over there." She nodded towards several gift bags by the television set.

Alice evaluated the bags and chose a moderately sized blue bag with silver glitter stars dotting the front and some silver tissue paper poking out the top. She reached into the bag and carefully unwrapped the gift, holding it up for everyone to see: an electric back massager. "Well I know what Hank's job is going to be from now on. Thanks, Grace."

Grace shook her head. "Adrian bought all the prizes."

Alice nodded in the Latina's direction. "Thank you."

"Thanks for coming."

"What's next?" Margaret asked.

Adrian held up her finger and ducked out of the room. A few minutes later she came in carrying a white garbage bag. After untying the drawstring, she pulled it open and handed the bag to her mother. "Reach inside."

Cindy shoved her hand into the bag and was surprised to retrieve a rolled up _diaper_. "What is this?"

"Exactly what it looks like," Adrian said, a devilish glint in her eyes. "A dirty diaper." She wiggled her fingers. "Open it up."

"If everyone will turn their Trivia papers over, you'll be using the blank sides to write down your answers for this game. It's called Deliciously Dirty Diapers."

"It's simple enough: we've got five dirty diapers." She waited until her mother had opened the diaper in her hands, marked with blue Sharpie penned _3_. Inside, there was a streak of a viscous brown substance. "They'll be passed around the room and you'll smell each one and write down what you think it is. Here's your hint: all the substances are melted candy bars."

"Hand that over," Heather said, reaching eagerly for the diaper in Cindy's hands. "If there's one thing I know, it's food!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Stevie Wonder!" Shakur said wistfully. He leaned over to inspect a pair of handprints forged into a cement square, located at the Rock Walk on Sunset Boulevard. "Your mother and I shared our first kiss during his song 'That Girl.'"

"Give me your phone."

Shakur's brows knitted. "Why?"

"Just trust me," he said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Shakur reached into his back pocket and retrieved his cell, setting it curiously into his son's hand.

Ricky walked backwards, periodically looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't about to walk into someone or their camera shot in the crowded area, and stopped, careful not to stand on any of the handprints. He motioned to his dad. "Strike a pose!"

Shakur began to laugh. He thought for a minute and then struck something like a John Travolta disco pose with his feet planted firmly on either side of Stevie Wonder's handprints.

"What is _that_?" Ricky mocked.

"It's before your time, son! But your mother will remember it." Shakur wiggled his eyebrows for effect.

"Don't scar me!" Ricky hollered over the multiple conversations going on around him. He positioned the cell phone camera and snapped a couple pictures at different angles, then returned to his dad's side to show him the results.

"This was a great idea," Shakur chuckled, patting Ricky on the back. "You're mom's gonna love this."

Ricky shielded his eyes with his hand while his eyes roamed the sea of handprints. "I still haven't found Terry Bozzio yet."

"Why don't you Yahoo it on your phone?"

"Yahoo it?"

"Google, Bing, whatever you kids do these days."

Ricky smirked and got out his phone to try. "Old fogy."

"Young whippersnapper."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"No fair!" Heather said when she saw Cindy's gift coupon. "I get a twenty-five dollar gift card from Geoff's for winning at dirty diapers, but you get a mani/pedi for winning Baby Bingo? Where is the justice in the world?"

"What happens now that she doesn't have anymore pins left?" Margaret asked, referring to Heather's third strike in the Big No-No game.

"If she gets another pin before the shower's over, it goes to you," Adrian chuckled.

"I hate you all," Heather pouted.

In the corner of the living room where everyone had set their purses, a low buzzing began to sound from one of them. At first nobody seemed to notice the sound, except Mercy, who crawled over to the pile and began to pad around until she triumphantly retrieved a cell phone from one of the purses.

Adrian noticed her daughter playing with the device from the corner of her eye. "Mercy, no!" She scurried across the room, inadvertently bringing attention to the situation, and stole the phone out of her daughter's hands. At that moment she realized her guests were staring at her and she felt heat come to her cheeks. "Sorry, looks like Merce was the only one to hear this going off."

"My apologies," Margaret said embarrassedly, "I thought I'd turned that off." She took the phone from Adrian and flipped it open to turn it off, but paused and her eyebrows elevated on her forehead.

"Is that a good sign?" Cindy asked playfully.

Margaret chuckled. "It's a text, from my husband."

"Oooh," Kathleen winked.

"Read it!" Heather encouraged.

Margaret covered her mouth to hide her laugh.

"That good, huh?" Kathleen asked.

Margaret offered the phone to Kathleen. "You tell me."

"'That girl thinks she's so fine,'" Kathleen read aloud. Then a loud laugh escaped her lips too. "That's pretty good."

"Come on, pass it around!" Heather said.

Margaret nodded and watched her phone go around the room before coming back to her by way of Adrian. Everyone had chorused in laughter.

"Stevie Wonder?" Cindy finally asked. "Was that who he was quoting?"

"Yeah," Margaret nodded with a grin. "Long story."

"I guess the boys must be having a good time in L.A."

"They don't hold a candle to the party we're having."

"You should text him back," Cindy suggested.

Margaret nodded. "I think I know just the thing." She looked around. "Anyone willing to take a picture for me?"

Six hands went up, and, seeing this, Mercy raised hers too.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Found it!" Ricky shouted. "Dad, over here!"

Shakur came over just in time to see his son kneel down before the block with Terry Bozzio's handprints and slide his hands into them.

"You have no idea how cool this is," he said. "This guy introduced groundbreaking moves to the art of drumming. He broke the stereotype that only guitarists could lead a band. He's a legend in the drum world!"

"Hold still, I'm gonna get a picture," Shakur said, this time taking out his digital camera instead of his cell phone. He took a few minutes to adjust the settings and then snapped Ricky's photo in a few different angles and poses. "Maybe we'll get this one framed when we get back home?" he offered. His text ringer pinged before Ricky could answer.

"Mom?" the teenager asked knowingly.

Shakur checked his text message and then held it down so Ricky could see the photograph of Margaret on screen, hand on her hip and blowing a kiss off her fingertips towards the camera.

"'She says she keeps the upper hand, 'cause she can please her man,'" Ricky read. He shuddered. "Oh man, I told you not to scar me!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Thinking of nixing the nanny?" Henry asked, holding up a daycare pamphlet he'd found wedged between the front seats.

"We don't want to, but she's one of our biggest expenses. If we could find something cheaper it would really ease some pressure."

"My parents used to send me to daycare when I was five. It was run by this angry old woman who made it her job to put me in the time out chair. Mostly for refusing to eat the crust on my sandwiches. And it was a lunch my dad packed! I thought, 'If my own parents tell me I don't need to eat the crust, then who the hell are you to give me time out for not doing so?' It wasn't like I was wasting the daycare's food. She was insane. I loathed daycare. Luckily it only lasted a year because my mom got a promotion and my dad quit to be a stay-at-home dad."

"Adrian hasn't been keen on any of the daycares we've looked into so far. She's really attached to Briella, and frankly, so is Mercy. She doesn't think kids get enough personal attention in daycare, unless it's one of your high end ones, and that's one of the reasons her own mother tried to avoid them. That and the fact that they're germ playgrounds. Literally."

"True that. I got more colds during that one year in daycare than I've had in all my remaining sixteen years combined."

"Henry, you're my best guy friend, so here's a hint: you're supposed to be making me feel better about this, not worse."

"Just tellin' it like it is." He tossed the pamphlet onto the dash.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Chug, chug, chug, chug, chug!"

Kathleen slapped a baby bottle onto the table. "Bottles Up!"

Heather and several others set their own bottles down and the redhead wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin printed with bottles and rattles. "Was it always this hard drinking from a bottle? Damn, Ms. B!"

Kathleen rubbed her stomach. "Ooh, boy. I guess all those parties George and I used to go to really paid off. I've never chugged a baby bottle before though." She chose a random gift from the remaining shower prizes and revealed it to be a jar of specialty bath salts and gave a little shimmy. "Gotta love a good soak!"

"I think we have time for one more game before we should get to cake and gifts," Adrian announced. She passed out a stack of papers faced down. "This one's called Scrambled Eggs. You have thirty scrambled up names of common baby related phrases on your sheets and," she retrieved an egg timer from the kitchen, "three minutes. Whoever unscrambles the most by the time this dings wins. Ready, get set," she cranked the timer to the three minute mark and released it. "Go!"

Four minutes later, after the words had been tallied up, Amy was revealed as the winner. She chose a simple red tin box with a silver ribbon and opened it to find an Amazon gift card. "Twenty-five dollars," she grinned. "I can always use this. Thanks."

"I'm sorry, but did someone mention cake?" Heather asked.

Adrian looked to Kathleen and the two disappeared down the hallway. A few minutes later they returned, carrying a three tiered cake.

"You've got to be kidding me," the redhead deadpanned. "More diapers?"

"It's for Grace," Kathleen said, setting the cake on the floor beside her chair. "It's a diaper cake," she said, running her hand across the ribbon on the second tier.

Grace peered over the arm of the chair. "That's…a lot of diapers."

All of the mothers in the room laughed at once. "You'll be wishing it was three times that before too long," Kathleen promised.

Adrian snuck back to the far bedroom and returned with an ice cream cake. "Just so we don't disappoint anyone," she said, shooting a playful look at Heather. She used a warm knife to cut and serve the slices and then took a seat on the arm of the chair beside her best friend. "So, are you gonna open those or what?"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

As soon as Grace awoke, she wormed around in her bed. It was warm, as usual, but more importantly, it was dry. She breathed a sigh, not sure if it was of relief or trepidation, then she turned her head to look at the calendar. This time the month of November had days one through twenty-nine crossed out. The thirtieth was a Tuesday; a school day. Grace pushed out of bed and slid into her slippers. She felt like she was stepping on ice picks as she shuffled by the made up bassinet and baby dresser topped with gifts and knickknacks from the shower. Inside its drawers were each of the baby outfits that she'd unwrapped at the party. Mostly clothes for newborns, but Margaret had provided several things for older ages too, stressing that babies grow faster than people realize. There was also the diaper cake, seated in the corner on the floor.

The blonde moved to the full length mirror and stood in front of it, then she turned to the side to see a profile of herself in the mirror. She rolled up the edge of her nightgown until it revealed her entire bare belly. It reminded her of a celestial body, just floating out in the dead of space. She'd tried to prepare herself all week for the possibility of going into early labor like Adrian or having her water break in the middle of class, but the moment never came. Now, only a day after her due date, she was wondering when it would be too early to start wondering if she would be pregnant forever. On the one hand, the thought of physically giving birth terrified her and she wanted to put it off, but as reality set in, the thought of enduring the back aches, the cravings, the swelling, the mood swings, the constipation, and the shortness of breath for days or even weeks longer was just about as nerve wracking.


	25. To Baby

**A/N: **I forgot to mention it last chapter, but this story finally got to 100 reviews on "Round III." Thanks so much everyone! (And only one more chapter left after this!)

_**Turning Tables**_

**To Baby**

Dr. Fields smiled as Grace entered his office. "How are you doing today, Grace?"

"Awful," the teenager said bluntly. She collapsed onto the couch and pulled her feet up so that she was in a lying position. In the process, she'd also kicked off her shoes – a pair of slippers – to reveal thick slipper socks. "They say walking can promote labor, but my feet are so swollen that I keep getting blisters on my feet and every time I move I feel like my back's breaking."

"I'm sorry to hear that, I wish there was something more I could do for you."

"I'm thirteen days past my due date."

"My wife – ex-wife now – went over her due date when she was pregnant with Jason. It's not uncommon with first pregnancies."

"They said they'll induce me this week if I don't go into labor naturally by Friday, but I don't want that. Do you know what happens when they induce labor, what they do to you?"

"I'm familiar with it."

"They take this thing this – this – this thing that's essentially a crochet hook and stick–" her voice hitched and Grace rolled over so she didn't have to look at Dr. Fields "–they stick it inside you…I don't want that."

"I understand." When Grace remained facing away from him he decided to change tactics and ask, "How are things at home?"

"The same. Why wouldn't they be?"

"I meant with George living with you. How has everyone been adjusting?"

"I don't know," Grace shrugged. "I spend most of my time in my room. But it's not like I hear a bunch of yelling and door slamming, so I assume everyone's getting along."

"You're not feeling very talkative today, are you?"

"Would you?" Grace shot back, finally rolling back to look at him. "If you were as big as Neptune and hurt everywhere and had people telling you they might shove foreign objects into your body in a week, would _you_ be very talkative?"

"I suppose not."

"That's what I thought." Grace turned over again. A few minutes later she began to shake, lightly at first, then a whimper that grew into a sniffle and finally all out crying began to accompany the tremors. "All these things are happening to me and I don't know what to make of any of them. I can't organize it all in my head! Sometimes I find myself snapping and sometimes weepy and sometimes I might even be happy for a while, like at the baby shower, but most of the time I just feel miserable. Most people think it's hormones, and maybe that's part of it, but most of it is that I have all these emotions – these emotions that started long before I knew I was pregnant – and I just don't know what to do with them. Each day that the baby gets closer, and each day that the trial gets closer, they get worse. I just feel like I'm screaming silently all the time."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

As soon as Ben stepped out of the bathroom he found his girlfriend waiting for him on the other side of the door, arms crossed and all.

"_Ben,"_ she glared, her hair still dripping at the ends from her shower.

"What?" he asked, hurriedly passing her to get to their bedroom so he could put on his shoes.

Adrian followed him, hot like a rash on his heels. "Why were you showering in the other bathroom?"

Ben cringed at the question, but concealed it by bending over to tie his laces. "Just trying to save time."

"You always shower after me."

"Like I said, I thought it would be nice if we could be ready to go at the same time for once. It's Sunday and I thought we were going to spend some family time together anyway, so I don't see how that is in any way a bad thing."

"You know how the hot water here works. I couldn't get a hot shower because it was being shared between the two bathrooms. We've had a plan that works for the past several months – one which you've been deviating from since Thursday, which I initially thought was to save time until today, when we both had the day off – so what I don't see is why we need to fix something that isn't broken."

Ben lifted his arms. "Right, all right, you're right: we don't need to shower at the same time."

Adrian seemed to deflate a bit, slowly unwinding her arms. "I'm sorry," she said. "I guess I'm just a little irritable because I didn't get the shower I was expecting. Forgive me?"

Ben quickly kissed her. "Of course." He skirted around her. "I'm going to go check on Merce."

Adrian nodded. "I'll just be a few more minutes, I'm almost ready."

But instead of heading to Mercy's room, Ben ducked into the other bathroom and quietly shut the door behind him. The smell of Adrian's jasmine perfume was even more pungent than normal in the water heavy air. He pushed through the invisible perfume haze to sit on the toilet seat where he tore off two sheets of toilet paper and then spun around on the seat and peered over the edge of the tub. After a moment he scrunched up his face and quickly wiped the top of the drain with the toilet paper. When he turned his hand over he saw a wad of long black hairs on the underside of the white square and made a gagging noise as he balled it up and threw it into the trash.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I have a surprise for you!" Heather crooned as she descended the stairs into Ricky's basement bedroom.

"Dear god, what now?"

Heather whipped her arm out from behind her back and slapped a black framed photograph onto Ricky's nightstand. Behind the glass was a picture of Heather, Ashley, and Ricky in the Shakurs' living room dressed up as Columbia, Magenta, and Dr. Frank-N-Furter.

Ricky groaned. "I thought we agreed to no pictures?"

"You said no pictures, but Ash and I never agreed to it. That's why I had Margaret take one when you weren't paying attention."

"I guess that officially makes you my weasel of a little sister."

"Oh, please, I'm so much better than a sister." She cannon balled herself onto his bed.

"So much worse, too."

"We should hang that one up right over there," she said, pointing to the framed photograph Shakur took of Ricky posed with Terry Bozzio's handprints on the Rock Walk.

"Not a chance in hell."

Heather chortled at that. "As much fun as the baby shower was, I am kind of jealous that you got to go down to L.A. that weekend. My family never really did the whole family vacations thing. Well, I take that back: we tried to go to Florida once, but not knowing anything about hurricane season, we booked our trip right between Tropical Storm Bonnie and Hurricane Charley."

"Let me guess: you spent most of the time in your hotel?"

"Bingo. And when we tried to go to Disneyworld, I got to right _one_ ride before they shut everything down due to rain."

"That's crap luck."

"Tell me about it." Heather stretched her legs out and hopped off the bed. "Anywho, I've got homework to do."

"But it's not even three hours before it's due!"

Heather childishly stuck her tongue out at him. "I'll see you whenever I smell dinner."

Ricky chuckled as she left. When he was sure she was gone he grabbed his cell phone off his desk and hit one of his speed dial buttons. "Hey, Mom, you remember when you asked me what we should get Heather for Christmas? Well, I think I've got an idea…"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Grace wobbled her way across the golf course, carrying a white plastic bag in her hands that concealed something a little over a foot tall. She stopped at the pole and white flag that marked the place where she'd scattered her father's ashes and sat down in front of the hole. She opened her plastic bag and pulled out a miniature pine tree with some silver glitter sprinkled across the velvety green branches.

"I know getting the tree was always one of your favorite parts of Christmas," she said while working the planter into the golf hole. "I know it's not the right size – I remember how you and Tom and I always used to outvote Mom to get the biggest one we could find – but I saw it at the store and I thought it seemed more fitting than roses and maybe more durable than a poinsettia at this time of year."

She struggled to find a comfortable sitting position on the golf turf and eventually ended up tucking her legs beneath herself and sitting on her knees. "I miss you so much, you have no idea. I just wish you were here to gather me up in your arms again and make everything go away." Grace tugged a tissue out of her pocket and loudly blew her nose into it. "Tom thinks you must be planning a Christmas party with Jesus right about now. I know Christians shouldn't be selfish, but I can't help it: I'd rather have you here with me instead. Two whole Christmases without you seems impossible, especially this year."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"That was my mom," Adrian said, closing her phone after reading a text message she'd just received. "She says she wants to spend some time with Mercy on Christmas."

Ben shrugged. "Your mom, your call."

Adrian pushed Mercy's stroller around a clothes rack in the mall. "I guess we can drop her off for a few hours," she mused. "We can do…other things."

Ben smiled. "I like the sound of that."

"What about your dad?"

"Haven't heard from him," Ben answered a little too sharply.

"Don't bite my head off."

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I just rather not bring him up if I can help it."

"He does love Mercy."

"He's got a funny way of showing it."

Adrian stopped pushing the stroller. "Don't use her as a pawn in your feud."

"I'm not," Ben glared. "But he hasn't asked to see her, so I'm not going to volunteer. Just because things are all rosy with you and Cindy again doesn't mean it has to be for me and my dad."

"Things _aren't_ 'all rosy' with my mom," Adrian corrected. "Otherwise we would've spent Thanksgiving with her. But I had to patch things up somewhat before the baby shower, otherwise it wouldn't have been fair to Grace."

"Speaking of the baby shower, I still can't believe Camille never showed up. It just shows how petty her and my dad are." Ben rolled his eyes.

"About that: I found out they took Grace and her mom out to dinner last week and apologized for not coming to the shower. I guess they gave her a check, but she didn't say for how much."

"That's my dad," Ben said in a singsong voice. "Moneybags Boykewich."

"It's going to a good cause."

"Which reminds me, I need to get the rent check in the mail. Don't want to get kicked out for being delinquent. Oh wait, he already thinks we are!"

"I'm sorry I even brought up the text in the first place," Adrian sighed. "This was supposed to be a nice family shopping trip and now look at us."

"It's just a stressful time of year and everything with our parents is just getting to us." Ben stroked his girlfriend's cheek. "I'm sorry for being so cranky."

"I had my turn this morning so I guess it's only fair."

"What do you say we just start the afternoon clean and go get some peppermint Dippin' Dots? I'm positive I saw a banner for them back that way," Ben said, pointing his long finger. "And you know how Mercy loves her ice cream."

"And you know how _I_ love peppermint," Adrian grinned.

"Two birds," the seventeen-year-old winked.

"Peep, peep." Adrian wheeled Mercy's stroller around. "Come on, boyfriend."

"Right behind you, girlfriend."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Amy?" Grace said, confused to find the brunette sitting at her kitchen table.

"Grace, hi." She lifted her hand. "I'm just waiting on my dad. Ashley and I are supposed to be spending the weekend with him since our mom is taking us up to Palm Springs next week to spend Christmas vacation at our grandmother's."

"Yeah, I knew that, but – and no offense – why are you _here_?"

"He forgot his debit card."

"He's always doing that," Grace laughed.

"Between you and me, I think this time was just an excuse because he's been trying to get us to come over and meet Moose."

"Did you?"

Amy tapped on the table and there was a jangle of metal, followed by Moose's head poking out from underneath it. Amy scrubbed his head. "He's sweet."

"Did Ashley get to meet him?"

"Uhm, no. She insisted on staying in the car."

Grace pulled out a chair across from Amy and sat down. "Still bitter about everything?"

"Pretty much."

"I know the feeling. I was so angry about my mom's relationship with George for a long time."

"I know, but at some point something's gotta give, right? She and my dad used to be so close. But moving in here – and getting the dog she's always wanted – didn't exactly score him any brownie points."

"Understandable." Grace felt Moose lick her leg under the table and scooted her chair around to scratch the dog behind his ears. "So, Palm Springs," she said brightly, changing the subject. "That sounds fun! I guess that means you'll get to see Jimmy, huh?"

"I guess."

"Something wrong?"

Amy shrugged. "We had a pretty big fight a couple months ago."

"So you're _not_ going to see him?"

"No, I am. It wasn't a break up fight, but…it's a little difficult to explain. And kind of personal, too."

"Oh," Grace blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize–"

"It's okay," Amy interjected. "I just feel like it's one of those things we're going to have to work out in person, you know?"

"Gotcha."

"Ames! Got my card, ready to go?" George blurted out as he came into the kitchen. He stopped when he saw Grace. "Oh, am I interrupting something?"

Grace shook her head. "Just girl talk."

Amy smiled thankfully. "I'll see you later, Grace. Good luck with everything." She patted Moose's head. "See you later too, handsome."

Moose barked and licked Amy's hand as she was walking away.

Kathleen came in a few minutes after George and Amy had left, gave Moose a Beggin' Strip, and joined her daughter at the kitchen table. "And where've you been all afternoon?"

"Just out and about. I took the bus."

"Yeah, I noticed you car was still in the garage."

"No use wasting the gas when I have to move my seat so far back that I can't reach the peddles." Grace opened her purse and pulled out a cylindrical pink tube with a key ring on it. "Not without my pepper spray though."

"Well you got home at a good time," Kathleen smiled. "I was thinking of trying out a new Christmas cookie recipe and if we like them, I think I'll make a batch to take down to the homeless shelter on Christmas Eve next week. Trouble is, I can't decide which one sounds best" She claimed three recipe cutouts from one of the kitchen drawers and laid them out in front of Grace.

"Chocolate Peppermint Pinwheel, Holiday Whoopi Pie, and Spicy Mexican Hot Chocolate? I hate to break it to you, but none of these sound like cookies."

"They are, I promise!" Kathleen laughed. "Do any of them sound appealing?"

Grace slid the tip of her tongue over the edges of her front teeth. "I'm kind of leaning towards the Chocolate Peppermint Pinwheel Cookies, if only to see what they actually look like when all is said and done."

"Great!" Kathleen said. "I just bought a whole bunch of candy canes on special, so I can put them to good use."

Grace rubbed her forehead. "I think I'm gonna go lay down though, I'm feeling a little lightheaded. Let me know when the cookies are ready."

"Do you need anything?" Kathleen asked, concerned.

Grace shook her head. "Just some sleep. But thanks, Mom. For everything."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"I thought you were doing homework."

"What can I say?" Heather shrugged from her seat on the couch. "Short attention span." She was snuggled up under a red fleece blanket, watching the blinking rainbow of lights on the tree. The lights were reflecting off the tinsel as well as the glitter that spelled out her name on the fuzzy white top of a stocking at the end of the fireplace.

"Move over couch hog." Ricky pushed her legs off the cushion so he could sit down, then he grabbed some of the blanket and threw it over his legs.

"Just what I need," Heather smirked before throwing her legs across his lap. "Human ottoman."

"What are doing in here by yourself?"

"I can't be in a room by myself now?"

"Don't make me hold your feet captive under the blanket."

"I don't take kindly to threats, Underwood."

To show that he wasn't making it up, Ricky grabbed Heather by the ankles and held them down while he tickled her bare feet.

Heather began to shriek and wriggle in an attempt to escape but when that proved ineffective she finally lunged forward and shoved her fingers up under Ricky's armpit in sweet revenge, catching him completely off guard.

Ricky let go at once and found himself pushing backwards to the far end of the couch to get away from the redhead's onslaught.

"I told you not to mess with me!"

"Okay, okay! Truce?"

Heather studied him suspiciously before giving a dramatic sigh. "Truce." To show that she meant it, she offered in a _small _section of her blanket. She rested her head on the arm of the couch, the way she'd been sitting when Ricky walked in on her.

"Something on your mind?"

"I was just thinking that in two Saturdays from now, my baby girl will be waking up for her first Christmas. She'll be ten-months-old. Ten months and nineteen days."

"Maybe you should give the Viceroys a call? Just to say Merry Christmas. Or whatever it is they celebrate, if anything."

"I deleted their numbers from my phone. I didn't want to be tempted to call. Or write."

"Deleting it isn't the same as forgetting it."

Heather sighed. "It's called a closed adoption for a reason."

"I'm just trying to help."

"I know, but missing her can't be helped, even when I know she's living a life far better than anything I could have ever given her."

Ricky grabbed Heather's hand and began to pull her over to him until he could wrap his arm around her shoulders.

Heather let her head fall against his. A few minutes went by as they both took in the twinkling tree, then she offered up more of her blanket, so that they each had half.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian sat on the floor of her and Ben's bedroom with her legs crossed and a large rectangular box in front of her. The box was neatly wrapped in paper with little Santas and Rudolphs smattered across it, except for a single flap that she was anchoring down with a piece of tape. "She's really going to love this."

"She was just over six months her first Christmas," Ben recalled. "It's going to be amazing to see her this time."

"We'll get to see her rip open her presents this year," Adrian beamed. "I can't believe that in less than six months she'll already be two. Two! Can you believe that?"

"I still can't believe you even spoke to me."

"I remember that. 'Surprised' is the word you used amidst the stuttering, if I recall. You should've seen yourself, you were so gawky. And that Adam's apple!"

Ben swept Mercy's gift out of his path and tackled his girlfriend like a lion. "Am I still so gawky?"

Adrian looped her arms around her boyfriend's neck. "Yes."

"You're still just as beautiful."

Adrian gripped the collar of his plaid shirt, pulling his face down to hers. She kissed his mouth, chewing a bit at his lower lip."Do you ever think about it?"

"Think about what?"

"All the little things that led us to this moment. Right here, right now."

"Like Bunny getting sick and my dad forcing me to fill in and learn the family business?"

"Or me forgetting my birth control."

"And don't forget the condom."

"Wise words," Adrian snickered. "How long had that thing been in your wallet, anyway?"

"Let's not go there."

"_Let's,"_ Adrian purred.

Ben wilted into her kiss, but shook his head when she started to unbutton his shirt.

"Since when do you turn down sex?"

"Since I still have homework to do tonight."

"Beeeen," she whined.

"Sorry I can't be Miss Straight A Honor Roll. Sometimes you just have to try and accommodate those of us with average academic talent."

"I could help you study…"

"Study _what?_" In response to Adrian's pearly white smile, he nodded. "That's what I thought." Ben used the edge of the bed to pull himself up. "I really do have to study-study. That is, if I stand even half a chance at getting into one of the colleges you'll be going to on my own merit." He offered his hand to her and hauled her up.

Adrian pouted a little but ultimately accepted his answer. "All right, but come to bed soon. Just because you pull an all nighter with your homework instead of with me doesn't mean you'll be any smarter for it."

"I'll keep that in mind." Ben kissed her cheek and left the room, closing their bedroom door behind him. He peeked in on his sleeping daughter on his way down the hallway and then made his way over to the table, where his backpack was sitting. He opened it up, pulled out his school binder, and then looked over his shoulder at the hallway. It was still empty, still quiet. He pulled some papers out of his binder and spread them out on the table. Hidden within his school work was an envelope with the electric company logo on it. He flipped it over, revealing it to already be torn open, and pulled out its contents. The electric bill had doubled since the month before.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"It's a school night. What you doin' up?"

"I couldn't sleep," Grace said, turning to her brother. "I guess you couldn't either?"

Tom shuffled to the kitchen wearing their late father's robe and slippers. "I'm hungry."

"I thought I was too, but I guess I'm not." Grace wore a detached look as she rubbed her swollen stomach.

Tom dropped two pieces of wheat bread into the toaster and rummaged around in the fridge for some butter and preserves while they were toasting.

"Remember how dad used to make us toast with coconut oil instead of butter?"

"You want coconut toast?" Tom asked.

Grace shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine. I'm just…I don't know."

"Are you okay?" he asked, moving across the kitchen to touch his sister's forehead.

The blonde laughed. "I'm fine, Tom. But thanks for being concerned."

"What 'bout the baby?"

"He's fine too."

"Sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Then why won' he come out?"

"I don't know," Grace whispered. "Maybe he's just shy…or scared." The toaster popped, redirecting Tom's attention. Grace rubbed her belly again. "I know I can relate to that."


	26. Or Not To Baby

**A/N: **With the weekend here, it looks like I can finally wrap up this story.

_**Turning Tables**_

**Or Not To Baby**

A cape of steam rippled behind Grace as she walked out of her bathroom, enveloped in a blue terry cloth towel wrap. Her hair was concealed inside a white towel which was drawn up on top of her head like a large construction cone and beads of hot water were still dribbling down her exposed skin. She shuffled over to her bed where she had her layered green and white maternity skirt, a long sleeved white maternity blouse laid, and a special maternity bra laid out for herself. As she reached for the skirt, she winced a little and touched her stomach.

"What is with you this morning?" she asked when the internal disruption was over. She slipped on her skirt and took a few minutes to pull on her bra and blouse as well, then she winced again, this time falling against the bed in response to the pressure. She gripped her comforter until the pain had subsided and then a thought occurred to her. She shuffled her way over to the mirror and stared at herself, then she grabbed a large bag – one that she had used in years past as a beach bag – and hurried from the guest house into the main house.

Once she entered the kitchen she found George pinned up against the island and her mother laughing at something he was nuzzling into her ear between kisses. She cleared her throat. "Uhm, I'm sorry to interrupt, but…" She held up her beach bag.

The playful look drained from George's face. "She's got the bag!"

"She's got the bag," Kathleen repeated as if on autopilot.

Grace nodded slowly. "I've got the bag."

"What you waitin' for?" Tom asked, his voice booming behind Grace. "Step on it people!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Is Mercy okay?"

"What?" Ben asked, pulling his head out of his locker to find Alice's face an inch from his. "She's fine, why?"

"Is Adrian okay?"

Ben's forehead creased until it looked as though he had a unibrow. "Fine. And before you ask," he said, holding his fingers to her lips, "I'm fine too. What's wrong with you?"

Henry shook his head. "She had a dream."

"It wasn't just a dream!"

"A dream about broken glass," Henry continued, ignoring her interruption.

"What does broken glass have to do with Mercy?"

"She thinks she's psychic."

"Broken glass can be symbolic of shattered expectations or impending pain and danger."

"Or it could be symbolic of a bad dream," Henry grumbled.

"My dreams always mean something, I just don't know what," Alice replied.

"Maybe it means all the pieces are just coming together?" Ben suggested. "Like Adrian, Mercy, and I being a family."

Alice nodded, a half smile forming on her lips. Then the sides of her mouth crashed down again. "Or it means everything is falling apart. Have you heard from your dad lately?"

Ben frowned. "I'm inclined to side with Henry on this one."

"It was just glass, Alice. Glass in your head."

"_Mirrored_ glass."

"Oh, well, that changes everything!" Henry sang sarcastically.

"Well I'm not a dream symbolism expert, but if it was mirrored, then wouldn't you be seeing your own reflection and, therefore, wouldn't that mean that your dream says something more about _you_ than it does about me or Mercy or Adrian?"

"Yeah, but that's just it, I didn't see myself in the shards."

"Then how do you know it was mirrored?"

"Because I saw an eclipsed full moon reflected in the pieces."

"'Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.'"

"Don't tell me you're on board with her now too," Henry said as Adrian approached.

"I'm not even sure what's going on, I just heard 'moon' and 'broken glass.'"

"Anton Chekhov," Alice said after a moment.

Adrian nodded, glad to have her reference recognized when Ben and Henry hadn't a clue as to what she was talking about.

"Nothing's going on," Ben said, shutting his locker. "Alice just took a trip through the looking glass, that's all."

Henry quickly turned his head away and began to whistle as if he hadn't heard the comment.

Noticing the expression on Alice's face, Adrian voluntarily stepped back too and motioned her hand as if reading the Asian girl's mind.

Alice swung her fist into Ben's arm.

"Ouch!" Ben yelped, rubbing his wound. "What the hell?"

"You got off lucky," Adrian said unsympathetically. "Imagine how much that would've hurt if you were dating! What led up to that, by the way? I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say it has to do with broken glass?"

"It was a dream I had right before I woke up this morning," Alice sighed. "I just remember that I was walking and it was dark everywhere, then I saw this flicker of light in the distance and I went towards it and discovered it was this scattered pile of broken glass on the ground. When I leaned over to look at it I saw that it was reflecting a full eclipsed moon in the shards, but when I reached to pick one up I just woke up."

"The moon is symbolic of clairvoyance," Adrian shrugged.

"And an eclipse of the moon in particular foreshadows death and disease in many myths," Alice said.

"Well there you go, you said it yourself: 'myths.'" Ben laughed in time with Henry. "Sorry I can't stay and indulge you, Alice, but I've gotta get to class."

"Maybe they're right," Alice said after the boys were gone.

Adrian smiled. "They don't need to know that."

Alice mirrored her smile.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Are you doing all right? How are you feeling?" Kathleen asked, continually looking to the seat beside her where her heavily pregnant daughter had her hands draped across her stomach.

"Mooom," Tom droned. "You alrea'y ask that."

"It's okay," Grace smiled at her brother. "She's just concerned."

"Overprotective," he corrected.

"I'd rather be overprotective than disinterested," Kathleen replied. "So?" she prodded, once again looking at the teenager.

"It hurts," Grace admitted, "but it's nothing I can't handle right now."

"Grace?" a Chinese American nurse in pink scrubs asked.

Grace raised her hand. "That's me, obviously."

"Dr. Ottavi is ready to see you now."

"Good luck," George said. "We'll be here if and when you need us."

Tom nodded in agreement.

Kathleen stood up and offered her hand to her daughter, helping her rise from her seat. She held Grace's hand as they followed the nurse into a room where Dr. Ottavi was already waiting.

"Hi, Grace," Dr. Ottavi greeted. "Nurse Romo tells me you think you're finally feeling some labor pains?"

"Yeah, since early this morning actually. I woke up with some weird feelings, but I didn't think much of it, so I took a hot shower. After I got out they started to get a lot sharper. My water didn't break or anything, but I wanted to come in anyway since I'm already overdue."

Dr. Ottavi nodded. "Well why don't you lie down and we'll take a look at what's going on?"

Grace utilized her mother's help to climb onto the bed as the doctor readied her tools to check on the baby. "You don't think these are Braxton Hicks, do you?" she whispered to her mom.

"I had Braxton Hicks several times with you, but you didn't come late, so I can't really say. I guess we'll know soon enough."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Hey, I found something that might be helpful to you, even though I doubt you're going to want to hear it."

"Like what?"

Heather slipped the drummer a piece of white paper folded into a foursquare. "It's a list of scholarships."

"Why wouldn't I be interested in that?" Ricky asked. He opened up the list, took one look at it, and then pushed it back towards Heather. "I'm not interested."

Just then Ashley joined them at the lunch table and scooped up the paper. She reviewed it and then looked at her friend. "I think you should apply."

"Would you?" he fired back.

"I don't know," she said honestly.

"There are people who need those scholarships more than me."

"You're just embarrassed."

"Yeah," he agreed after a beat. "I am. Wouldn't you be?"

"You deserve all the help you can get."

"Which I'm getting from my mom and dad."

"Don't they deserve help too? The least you could do is apply, the worst they could do is give it to someone else."

"I'm not interested."

Heather and Ashley looked at one another and the redhead shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

Adrian was waiting for Ben at his car after school. "Did you check your messages?"

"No, I usually don't until I get to the butcher shop, sometimes not even until my break. Why?"

"Grace is in labor."

"What? Really? When?" Ben threw his backpack into the backseat of his car. "That explains why she wasn't here today. I thought maybe she just wasn't feeling well again."

"Apparently it started early this morning, but they didn't want to distract us all day, so Kathleen had George leave a message just before school got out."

"So now we'll be distracted all evening at work instead."

Adrian nodded. "I know. I want to go straight to the hospital and see how she's doing…"

"But it's not like that will make the labor move any faster," Ben nodded. "Who else knows?"

"I don't know, I came to find you first."

"Well, maybe we should be careful asking around. I know how you didn't want a fanfare when you went into labor. And Grace's situation is even more…"

"Yeah."

"Plus we don't want any media attention, Grace has got enough of that." Ben scratched the back of his head. "You get off before I do, so why don't you give me a call when you get home and relieve Briella and we'll see what's going on then?"

"Okay." Adrian gave Ben a kiss. "I'll see you tonight."

"Give Mercy a kiss for me."

"I will." Adrian stepped onto the curb as Ben got into his car and she waved to him while he drove away. She'd already tried to call George back after receiving his voicemail, but he hadn't answered, so she tried to call him again on her way to her convertible.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"What's wrong?" Grace asked from her spot in the birthing pool. Her eyes were on Dr. Ottavi who was a few feet away, speaking quietly to a couple of nurses. "Mom?" she squeaked. Her flesh was light, like uncooked rolls, and her forehead was visibly clammy with little blonde strands sticking to her face like pieces of wet straw.

"I don't know, Gracie," Kathleen said, touching her daughter's damp shoulder comfortingly. "Dr. Ottavi?"

"It's been fourteen hours," Grace whimpered. "How much longer?"

Dr. Ottavi returned with her mouth formed into a grim stripe. "Each time you attempt to push, the baby's heart rate starts falling."

"He's in distress?"

"Yes."

Grace shook her head, groaning as she touched her belly. Another contraction wracked through her body, causing her to cries to bounce off the walls like a barrage of stray bullets. When the pain began to give way, Grace was breathing raggedly, like she was coming down from an asthma attack in a chokingly hot sauna.

"What can we do?" Kathleen asked for her daughter.

"Dr. Ottavi?" Nurse Romo interrupted before the doctor could answer. "I think we have another problem."

Dr. Ottavi moved around to the end of the birthing tub where the nurse was pointing and spotted a greenish cloud dispersing in the water.

Kathleen followed the doctor's gaze. "Is that–"

"Meconium," Dr. Ottavi nodded. "And very thick meconium at that."

"Mec – onium?" Grace coughed.

"Set up a room for her, immediately!" Dr. Ottavi instructed.

"What's going on?" Grace asked, panic ruminating in her voice.

"We need to get you out of the tub and cleaned up," Dr. Ottavi explained as one of the nurses handed her a couple of blankets. "Meconium is the baby's first bowel movement."

"Feces?" Grace said, realizing she'd heard the term before but hadn't been able to place it in her pain addled mind. "But that means–"

"We're going to have to perform an emergency c-section. The baby's already overdue and lacking in the normal amount of amniotic fluid. Worse, he was becoming distressed when Grace tried to push, which likely resulted in the bowel movement. We need to get him out before he inhales any of the meconium, otherwise it can cause a serious infection in his lungs."

"A fatal infection?" Kathleen whispered.

"In some cases, yes." Dr. Ottavi helped Grace into a wheelchair that had been brought in by Nurse Romo.

"The room's ready, Doctor."

"Let's go!"

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Come in!"

Ricky pushed open the door to Heather's room and found her seated on her bed, reading a book. He sat down on the edge of her bed and reclined across the lower end of the mattress.

"You look like you wanna talk," the redhead said, putting aside her book.

"I've been thinking about what you and Ash said."

"About what? We have a lot of sage advice."

"The scholarship."

"Oh?" she said, surprised.

"My grades are nothing special and I'm not as hard up as a lot of people. I probably wouldn't even get it based on those things alone."

Heather shrugged. "Doesn't mean you couldn't try."

"I don't even know what I want to do with my life."

"Should we? I think it's kind of stupid that people always think kids should have life plans before they've even graduated high school." Heather's lips curled into a grin. "People like Adrian and Grace are freaks. Just because they want to be lawyers and doctors at seventeen doesn't mean the rest of us have to have life goals already."

"How many other people do you think will apply?"

"Are you asking how many people will have the _courage_ to apply?"

"Basically."

Heather shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe there's a lot of other people like you, who won't apply because they feel ashamed to apply for a Survivors Scholarship. That might be in your favor. Then again, maybe there are a lot more courageous people out there than you might think."

Ricky reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He threw it onto Heather's stomach.

"What's this?"

"Open it."

Heather unfolded the paper. "Seriously?"

"I'll make you a deal: I'll apply for the Survivors Scholarship if you'll apply for the Mothers of the Adopted Scholarship."

"I don't even know if I want to go to college. And graduation is still over a year away."

"You'll have to start thinking about it soon, you need to start applying your senior year."

"I have time."

"It sneaks up on you."

"Okay, even if I did agree and did follow through, so what? I'm not even sure I'll still be living with you by then. How am I supposed to pay for college with no money? A thousand dollar scholarship is great, but I'm pretty sure just one semester costs a lot more than that."

"I guess we both have a lot to think about, huh?"

"I guess we do."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"This was probably a bad idea," Adrian said as she pushed Mercy's stroller through the automatic doors of the hospital. "Disrupting her sleep schedule like this is bound to backfire on us."

"It was either this or pay Briella extra to stay with her."

Adrian wrinkled her nose. "We can handle a backfire, can't we?"

"I think we're up for the challenge."

"She hasn't really been around other kids. How do you think she'll react to the new baby?"

"Hopefully by _not_ pulling on his ears."

They stopped in the hospital waiting room and Ben looked around for Tom and George. "You don't think they would've gone home already, do you?"

Adrian adamantly shook her head. "I guess we sit down and wait." She parked Mercy's stroller at the end of a row of chairs and sat down. "I'm a little nervous that we haven't heard anything. Do you think she's delivered yet?"

"Just because you had a relatively fast labor doesn't mean everyone can be so lucky."

"Fast," she scoffed. "I was in labor months before I should've been."

"Adrian? Ben?" George asked, stepping into the waiting room with what looked like two coffee cups in his hands.

"George!" Adrian jumped up. "What's going on? Where's Tom?"

George pursed his lips as he approached and seated himself next to Ben. "He went to the bathroom. I was just down in the cafeteria getting us some hot chocolates."

"How's Grace?" Ben pressed.

George's face clouded.

"George," Adrian said sternly. "She's okay, isn't she?"

"They took her in for an emergency caesarean."

A high pitched cry escaped Adrian's throat: "_What?!_ She wanted a hydro birth!"

Ben laid his hand on his girlfriend's knee.

"There were complications," George explained solemnly. "The baby was distressed. Kathleen didn't get a chance to say much while they were taking Grace to her new room and I haven't seen her since."

"How long ago was that?"

"About an hour."

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

"Grace," Dr. Ottavi intoned, "I don't want you to be alarmed, but I do want you to know that he won't cry when he comes out. Do you understand?"

Grace squeezed her mother's hand. Her eyes were streaked as though with red dye and her cheeks were raw with salt water. She couldn't see anything because of the panel of blue fabric they'd set up to block the actual operation from her view.

A few minutes later Kathleen's attention piqued and she began to turn her head and body as she looked over the sheet.

"Is that him? Is he out?" Grace panicked.

"Yes," Kathleen whispered. Her eyes glazed over.

"Wh – what's going on? Is he okay? Mom? Mom? _Mom!_"

"He needs to be suctioned and delivered to the NICU immediately!" Dr. Ottavi instructed to the nurses.

"Mom!"

"I'm here, Gracie. I'm here."

Grace shook her head, her nose and eyes running freely now. "They're not even gonna let me see him?"

"They'll let you see him as soon as they can." Kathleen lifted Grace's hand to her lips and kissed her quivering fingers. "Please, God, let him be all right…"

The only thing Grace saw was a tiny hand fall free from a blue and white blanket as the nurses rushed her son out of the room.

**TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT TSLOTAT**

In the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, five women including Dr. Ottavi and Nurse Romo were huddled around Grace's newborn son. The child was lying naked on the table still with splotches of blood and various fluids sticking to his pinkish-purple flesh. He wasn't moving much, even as a long tube moved inside his mouth and throat. Nurse Romo stepped away and began to ready an IV for the infant, while greenish-black gunk continued to pump its way through the clear tubing, taking away the meconium he'd inhaled in the womb.


End file.
